


Lost in a Shadow of You

by LunaStories



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Almost Drowning, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Courtship, Cultural Differences, Cultural Misunderstandings, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, Insecure Wade Wilson, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Non-Human Genitalia, Oblivious Peter Parker, Peter has Spinnerets, Peter still has Spider-Man powers, Pining Peter Parker, Pining Wade Wilson, Scarred Wade Wilson, Siren dicks, Siren!Wade, Sirens live a very long life, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Storms, Very brief suicidal ideation/thoughts from Peter not caring what happens to himself, Wade Wilson has Two Penises, accidentally engaged, brief allusions and glimpses into experimentation on Sirens and mentions of human experimentation, courtship rituals, didn't know they were engaged, for Peter in the beginning, guilt-ridden peter parker, now get ready for, shameless flirting, you've heard of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaStories/pseuds/LunaStories
Summary: Peter always suspected he’d be a shitty fisherman, but after some rather unfortunate events in New York force him to be a recluse in a secluded coastal town, he can say for certain he sucks at this. Fortunately for him, the resident cryptid, one Siren known as Wade Wilson, is around to save him from himself. Misunderstandings and shenanigans ensue when Peter’s ‘thank you for saving my life’ gifts are mistaken as ‘please have babies with me’ courting gifts by the Siren. Only time (and some low-key therapy) will decide if they figure their shit out.This is a story of two monsters who despite all the odds, find a home in each other.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 40
Kudos: 282
Collections: Spideypool Big Bang - The 2020 Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! It's been a hot minute but I'm here to present an interspecies himbo/himbo love story to ya'll (a description coined by my lovely beta CuteAsAMuntin). I've been prepping to get this story ready all day and it's only through the support of Dragon and my amazing artist ahgee that I'm even coherent right now.
> 
> Many thanks goes out to my friends Ellie (Bisexualbarry), boomboxmebaby, and Dragon for helping me decide on an idea for the Spideypool Big Bang! This is my first year participating and I basically haven't participated in a big bang for a good year or two now so this was an experience. 
> 
> A thank you goes to my cheer reader Princess_Breetlejuice as well; I appreciate the encouragements! 
> 
> And the excellent editing for this fic is by the ever amazing [CuteAsAMuntin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteAsAMuntin/pseuds/CuteAsAMuntin)! Thank you for the kind words and it's always a pleasure working with you. <3 I appreciate the help!!
> 
> And last but not least, this fic would not have been possible without [ahgee's](https://twitter.com/ah_jiing) stunning artworks and the extreme amount of work they put into this collaboration. We've basically been working together this entire posting day to get out the best quality work to you all and I'm so grateful for all the support they've given me. We clicked so well and this has been both a fun and exciting time! They did a LOT of art for this fic including concept art which we will include at the end for perusal. I'm genuinely still in shock by the art works they've blessed me with. Every single art piece is embed in the fic itself, and a link to the masterpost of all the pieces will be at the end as well <3 I hope you enjoy this collaboration!

__

_I’m going to die here._

Peter choked and a burst of bubbles escaped his mouth, his panicked heart stuttering as he drowned. Over the sound of rushing in his ears he could feel the vibrations of something larger than him brush past. 

An ungodly screeching sound reverberated around him. At first, he had the delirious thought it was his own dying screams, but the echoes were too clear and inhuman. He flailed, arms meeting something solid and cool to the touch. Against his better judgement, he opened his eyes. The ocean was a dark abyss around him, the ache in his chest growing more pronounced in what he knew would be his final moments. 

There, again. A flash of pulsing red in the dark, the glow of gold eyes. 

There was a tail. Black, red, and white scales flashed in the ocean-filtered moonlight as long, strong fingers dug into his arms, a sharp pinch to the grip that felt unnatural. He didn’t resist as they pulled him close. He slammed his eyes shut, tense and stiff from more than just the freezing waters. Whatever this was, it certainly wasn’t human. If it was going to eat him, he didn’t want to see whatever horrific thing had decided he was a tempting meal. 

Instead of pain, he was met with the light touch of lips against his own. Startled, he let the soft tongue coax his jaw open. The mouth pressed against his pushed air forcefully past his lips, filling his starving lungs and driving out the suffocating weight of saltwater. The lips had a strange texture, and as he pulled in deep lungfuls of air from the creature, Peter felt the water part around them, a swooping sensation in his stomach as they moved at great speeds toward… somewhere. He still didn’t think this thing had good intentions. It probably wanted to eat him slowly and was simply keeping him alive for a fresher meal later. Now that he wasn’t struggling to breath, he pushed against the strong arms of his captor, wiggling as hard as he could. He felt pinpricks dig into his waist, and with a start realized that this thing had _claws_. 

Jesus Christ, if he survived this, he was going to let MJ convince him to give up his pipedream of becoming a fisherman. He was _not_ cut out for this shit. He’d signed up for peaceful nights of trawling, not sea monsters and whatever the hell other creatures apparently existed in the waters of this small coastal town. 

His last thoughts before his taxed body gave up on him was that—despite the fast pace at which they flew through the water—the thing held him gently, like he was precious. It’s been a long time since he’s felt like he mattered to someone. After all, who is he to judge this creature, when he’s just as monstrous?

xxxxxx

“Careful, put him onto his side — yes, there we go.”

Peter barely registered the firm hands on him as he was yanked to consciousness by the overwhelming urge to throw up. He retched over the side of the bed he seemed to be laying on, straight into a bucket that was held up to meet his face just in time. 

“Wha — at?” Peter sputtered before his voice devolved into coughing instead. Despite the welcome scrape of air along his raw throat, his lungs heaved as if still filled with an uncomfortable weight, intensified by the stinging pain within. 

“Don’t try to talk yet! There’s still water in your lungs boy. What were you thinking going out during a storm?” 

Peter blinked watery eyes at the old woman sitting in a chair next to his bed. She set down the bucket, and he finally took note of his surroundings. He realized that a good amount of the town was loitering around the house and outside as well, from what he could see through the doorway and narrow window to the garden. He recognized the man who had moved him onto his side and was now propping him up to be the local craftsman. Peter had admired his clever wooden figurines on more than one occasion since he’d moved to the coastal town. 

“There was a storm?” Peter croaked out after catching his breath and throwing up a few more mouthfuls of disgustingly salty seawater. 

“Really.” The gray-haired woman shook her head, wrinkles more pronounced as she scowled. “And this coming from someone who proclaimed himself a fisherman? If you can’t tell there’s a storm coming, then you won’t last long in our waters.” 

“Leave him be, Anash. He almost died today.” The craftsman gave him a reassuring pat, and Peter smiled weakly up at the kind man. 

“Thank you, Roan.” 

His eyes widened, a bit surprised as he rubbed at his mustache and beard. “You remember my name.” 

“I really like your figurines. Was thinking about asking for some lessons before my near-death experience,” Peter quipped, gratified by the grin flashing across the older man’s face at his words. 

Roan’s smile dimmed when he took in Peter’s still-waterlogged form. Though the fireplace they had raging in the back had dried out most of the water, Peter’s skin was beginning to itch from the caked-on salt it left behind. 

“Perhaps you should try woodwork instead of fishing, aye, child? You would certainly have a lower chance of drowning.” 

“I’m twenty-seven,” Peter muttered in reply, even as he shrugged his shoulders and slowly sat upright. There was a pounding headache behind his eyes, and he winced as he accepted the cup of water from Anash. 

He took a sip and glanced at everyone crowded into the room. A few of them he didn’t recognize, but a surprising number he did. Considering his arrival a scant fortnight ago, he was pleasantly surprised that so many members of the small town were kind enough — or perhaps simply bored enough — to visit. 

“Thank you for the help,” He spoke up, a little more than a hoarse whisper. “How did you guys find me?”

Suddenly, as if brought on by his more stable health, memories of cold scales and strong arms flashed through his mind. He tried to stand up, perhaps too hastily considering the way he staggered, and when he blinked there were black spots in his vision. 

“Careful there!” Roan admonished as he settled Peter back onto the bed. His hands shook with exhaustion as he tried to push himself up again.

“There should be — there was something in the water with me.”

Roan and Anash shared an indecipherable look, one that made Peter squint in suspicion. The other townspeople were just as quiet, avoiding his eyes. 

“That’s not for you to worry about, boy,” Anash finally broke the tension with a firm slap on her thighs, getting up with a grunt as she ordered the others around. They followed her words without protest, cleaning up the house and clearing out in a slow trickle. 

She turned to Peter, fixing him with a look that allowed no room for arguments. “You will sleep here tonight. Once you have regained your strength, Roan will take you back to that hut you call a house. He’ll bring you a change of clothes.” 

Roan nodded in agreement, waiting until Anash left the room with a _harrumph_ before flashing Peter a sympathetic look. “Cheer up, kid. Anash may seem harsh but she means well. We’ve sort of learned to let her do her thing. As the local healer, she won’t take no for an answer, so I suggest you hang tight and let yourself recover. I’ll get your clothes for you.” 

“The door’s unlocked, I wasn’t planning on being out for long. Just dipping my toes in the water and then, well…” Peter trailed off, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders as his exhausted body begged him for a moment of reprieve. A huge wave had dragged him out to sea and something not entirely human had saved him. The townsfolk obviously knew something about whatever the creature was but didn’t seem overly alarmed by it. Perhaps, then, it was harmless? It certainly hadn’t _felt_ harmless with its sharp claws and glowing, slitted eyes.

“Don’t think too hard on it, Peter,” Roan gave a firm pat on his shoulders, gathering his things as he went. “Sometimes there are things better left unanswered.” 

Peter laid down and stayed silent, but he knew he couldn’t just let this go. For better or for worse, that creature had saved him. That meant their fates were tied together, and Peter wasn’t one to be dissuaded so easily. He would get to the bottom of this, but first he would need to get better.

He closed his eyes, and drifted off to dreams of claws ripping open his chest and reaching for his heart. Somehow, he didn’t feel afraid, only warm. 

xxxxxx

The next day, Peter was woken up disgustingly early by the sound of clattering pots and pans. He stumbled out of the small room he’d inhabited and went out to the dining room where Anash seemed to be in the middle of an arcane blood ritual, or possibly making breakfast. Either one seemed plausible at the moment. 

She didn’t speak to him much, just took one look at him and scowled. “You shouldn’t be able to move yet,” she snorted and shook her head before serving him a heaping pile of scrambled eggs with bacon. “Youth these days, you sure heal fast.” 

Peter choked down the food as fast as possible, ears burning as he tried to change the topic. “I think I can go back home now.” 

She scoffed and pointed her fork at him accusingly. “Certainly not. You’re still wearing the same clothes you almost drowned in yesterday despite Roan bringing you a new set. Clearly you can’t take care of yourself.”

“I forgot,” Peter defended as he blushed. He straightened up and sent her his best ‘I am a grown-up hear me roar’ look. “I can take care of myself.”

She seemed to seriously doubt that but shrugged and waved a hand at him. “Whatever, just make sure you come back in a few days so I can make sure you haven’t contracted anything weird or caught pneumonia.”

He nodded, relieved she wouldn’t force him to stay. Not that he couldn’t take an old woman, especially with his recent… enhancements. 

Right, that was also a large reason why he didn’t want to be near a doctor of any sort. Time to skedaddle. 

“Thank you for your help. Is there any way I can pay you back?” 

Anash grabbed his plate, heading to the sink in a clear gesture of dismissal. “I don’t need anything of yours boy. Just make sure you watch out for storms. Next time you may not be so lucky.” 

There was a certain weight to her words, a dark tone that Peter wanted to probe at. He wasn’t sure if she meant lucky as in the townspeople supposedly finding him washed up on the shore or lucky that the creature had deemed him worthy of being saved. Before all this, before Uncle Ben and the spider bite he had wanted to be a reporter, and this town was just rife with mystery and intrigue. 

But he wasn’t that Peter anymore. 

No, he was now Peter Parker, a simple fisherman and hermit that lived in a glorified hut by the coast. He didn’t have the right to do what he loved, not after how he’d failed Uncle Ben. He was better off alone, so no one else would fall victim to his Parker Luck. 

“I’ll get out of your hair then,” Peter grabbed the set of clean clothes Roan left him and went out the door, ignoring the brief concerned look Anash sent him at his subdued tone.

xxxxxx

The walk back to his house was met with warm greetings by the locals and gentle inquiries into his health. He answered all of them with a cheery smile and reassurances. He appreciated the concern but secretly all he wanted to do was get home and take a shower. 

They seemed to think he should be more affected by the incident, whether physically or mentally, and maybe he would have if he wasn’t already well-versed in the bizzarities of life. After all, he wasn’t even really sure what he was himself anymore. The increased healing and strength was “normal” enough in terms of enhancement mutations, but the odd, almost microscopic flaps on his inner wrists honestly grossed him out. He’d tried pressing them once and it released a sticky white substance. It was certainly a strange place to grow a spinneret after the spider bite, but he couldn’t complain, especially when he thought about what the alternatives might have been. Really, it was just another piece of evidence that he was no longer a base-line human. 

He opened the door to his house with little fanfare, taking his set of clothes directly to the shower and washing off the grit of sand and dried salt on his skin. Once he felt less like a crusted-over piece of garbage, he stepped out of the shower and pulled on his comfortable sweatpants and worn T-shirt. These were his comfort clothes, but considering the circumstances he could certainly justify putting them on. 

He flopped onto the couch and reached for his phone, tapping it until it lit up, surprised it still had some battery in it. He raised a brow when he saw there were over three missed calls from Aunt May and one from MJ. 

He called Aunt May first, and let himself relax into the couch when her soothing voice reached him. 

“Peter, how are you? You said you’d call when you settled in, but it’s been two weeks already!” 

“Sorry Aunt May,” Peter sighed, feeling the now familiar stirrings of guilt as he stared up at the ceiling marked with water stains. “I got side-tracked trying to get everything unpacked.” 

_And then I almost drowned the first time I decided to “test the waters.”_

He didn’t say that of course. If he had his way he would never worry his Aunt, but he knew she cared too much for him.

“Well now that you’re free I expect calls every week. We miss you.” 

Peter cleared his throat, feeling the choking pressure of anxiety wrap around him as he gripped the phone tight enough for it to creak ominously. “H-how’s Uncle Ben?” 

“Oh he’s doing well,” Aunt May replied immediately, voice softer as if sensing his fears. “Really, Peter, I don’t know where you get the idea that you’re at fault, but Uncle Ben and I both don’t blame you for how things ended up. It’s better Ben than you, and he agrees with me!” 

“Right.” Peter searched for the words, to explain his stance on the subject, but his every attempted explanation fell flat. How could he make them see that it _was_ his fault? They knew Uncle Ben had been targeted because Peter had been digging too deep into the underground human experimentation rings, but what they didn’t know was that Peter could have stopped the attack. He could have, because he’d been bitten by what was clearly a heavily-mutated spider at one of the labs he’d broken into. 

What was the point of super strength and accelerated healing if he couldn’t even save the people he loved? He’d just stood there, frozen in fear as Uncle Ben had yelled out, as the dark van had driven by and shot at them. He’d stood still as Uncle Ben pushed him to the ground, shielding him with his vulnerable human body. 

He could still feel the blood on his hands, and he feared no amount of convincing would ever wash him free of them. So, he’d quit his job as a crime reporter and moved to the middle of nowhere in an attempt to escape his past. It may have felt cowardly, but it was for the best.

“Give Uncle Ben my regards,” Peter finally finished, knowing the silence had dragged on too long to be comfortable. 

“Or you could tell him yourself,” Aunt May huffed. “Come visit us, or we’ll visit you. He’s almost fully healed anyway. Been mostly complaining about how he hates staying in one place for so long. He’s been hogging the bed too, and he eats so much you would think he has two stomachs!” 

Peter smiled, eyes watery as he listened to Aunt May ramble on. Uncle Ben was fine, but for him to stay that way Peter needed to be far away from him. From both of them and from all his friends. Nobody else should be sacrificed because he couldn’t mind his own business. Out here in the open sea, no one could be hurt by him and he intended to keep it that way. 

After a few more minutes of idle catching up, they hung up and Peter closed his eyes. He should call MJ too, but for now he would rest. 

xxxxxx

Peter knew better than to dig into places he wasn’t welcome. He’d learned the lesson the hard way, after all. 

But was he _really_ being nosy if he was just coincidentally sailing his small fishing boat out to the general area he’d almost died in? He still had to catch fish for a living, so he was only doing his job. He’d even checked the weather reports multiple times to make sure there was no storm incoming. 

He fished, or at least went through the motions. He’d taken a crash course in New York City of all places, before he’d dropped all his life’s savings into purchasing this rickety old fishing boat and his frequently waterlogged two-room house. Not for the first time, he was glad he hadn’t been out on the boat when the storm had come. This whole fishing thing wasn’t going great so far. Who knows how long he would have had to save before he could get a new one, if it had been wrecked by the storm? 

In the end, even after peering over the rusted railing to stare at the water, he didn’t see fang nor fin of anything unnatural. He did, however, catch a few fish. His catch was piddlingly small, so he saved most of it for himself, but the rest he figured he’d give to Anash and Roan for helping him out. He doubted he’d fetch a good price for these. 

He went home that night satisfied with his haul but disappointed at finding no trace of his savior. He didn’t know what his goal here was. Was he starved for action? Bored after risking life and limb in New York chasing the most tantalizing stories? Perhaps. But part of him just yearned to see this creature and thank it. Because in the darkness of the sea, for a split second, he’d wondered if it was really so bad to just drift off. 

And he’d been startled to find that he couldn’t, not when he was anchored by claws and every breath in his lungs was given to him by textured lips.

He pressed his fingers to his lips, remembering the sharp nip of fangs when he’d pressed desperately close. His heart pounded, not in fear but in some unnamable yearning. 

He would get to the bottom of this, and this time, alone in the world and isolated, the only person who could get hurt was him. And that was a sacrifice Peter was willing to make. 

xxxxxx

“Still heading out there every day, kid?” 

Peter looked up from his whittling, hands steady as he tried to shape a horse from the uncooperative block of wood. “Yeah, have to make a living somehow.” 

Roan let out a huff of breath, clearly unconvinced as he concentrated on his own figurine. “When you first came here, you seemed a lot more reluctant. I could tell your seafaring legs weren’t really established yet. Not sure why you decided to be a fisherman when you’re much more talented at woodwork.” Roan gestured to the spindly set of legs Peter’d managed to carve so far, and he rubbed the back of his neck, careful of the tool he had in his hands as he let out a self-deprecating chuckle. 

“You would think being good with my hands would translate to being good at fishing. But as you can see...” Peter shrugged, going back to his work. He got what Roan was saying, and yes, he wasn’t that good at being a fisherman, but it gave him an excuse to be out at sea all day. An opportunity for him to find his savior. Still, the meager fish he caught were barely enough to keep him fed, and Roan had taken pity on him and taken him on as an apprentice for free. Peter had started coming to Roan’s shop whenever he had the spare time, shifting his schedule so most of his fishing was now at night. Sure it was a lot more spooky and dangerous, but it was worth it. If he could sell a few of these figurines it would keep him fed for much longer than an empty net. 

Roan had an online shop, and so far the smaller projects Peter had worked on were showcased there, but not for sale. People seemed to really like the small fish and a rabbit or two he’d managed, but they still weren’t good enough to be sold. He was grateful for Roan’s guidance though, and had taken to giving him a few of his bigger fish as payment whenever he could. 

He could feel the woodcarver’s eyes on him, and he focused on the soft sounds of whittling and the scent of cedar in his nose. Eventually, Roan seemed to gather the courage to speak up, “Is that the only reason you’re out there so diligently?” 

“Why else would I be out there in the wet and cold?” Peter shot back readily enough, even as he stuttered in his chipping and accidentally dug too deep into the soft wood. He cursed before handing the piece of wood to Roan to inspect.

Roan turned it in his hands for a moment, eyeing it critically before re-shaping it carefully with expert movements. He handed it back to Peter, and fixed him with a look that made Peter feel like he was under scrutiny. “Whatever you’re looking for, you might not like what you find.” 

“I find that a lot of times, knowing is better than being ignorant.” Peter grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth, flashes of Uncle Ben’s pained groans and the scent of blood coming to mind. Pursuit of knowledge hadn’t always been kind to him. “Some of the time,” Peter corrected reluctantly. 

“And this might not be one of those times,” Roan warned. He glanced outside the window, taking in the setting sun and the people still milling about. He seemed to make a decision then as he sighed and set down his figurine. 

Peter did the same, but much more hesitantly, unsure of where the conversation would go now. 

“I can tell you’re one to hold onto something like a dog with a bone and not let go.” Roan eyed him shrewdly before his gaze softened, lips pulled tight. “So how about this, you go out to the Lonely Cove tonight and whatever you find there, you form your own opinions on it.” 

“The Lonely Cove?” Peter questioned, leaning forward eagerly and almost impaling himself on his own whittling tool. “Where’s that?” 

“It’s directly northwest of your house, about two miles out to sea. There’s a rock formation of sorts that formed a small cave system over time. It’s enclosed enough that no one should be able to see you from shore if you go into the cove.” 

Peter committed the instructions to memory and he gripped his horse figurine with a strength that threatened to break it. “And why should I go there?” 

Roan shook his head, tight-lipped now that he’d said his part. “You’ll see.” 

xxxxxx

It was a Saturday, and Peter usually spent the weekends fishing day and night as a way to pass the time. His house was livable, sure, but he hadn’t exactly moved out to the little fishing hamlet for the Wi-Fi connection. Most of the time, the lag killed his motivation to websurf more effectively than five minutes of ‘who’s dating who’ in the most recent celebrity news. Instead, he spent his days drifting along in his boat, bringing a lunch and dinner with him, grateful for the fact that the vessel had a roof to shield him from the sun and rain. Besides the breaks in his routine to visit Roan’s workshop to practice whittling, he lived a simplistic and predictable lifestyle, the direct opposite of his time in New York.

Today though, he had a mission. He was going to find the Lonely Cove even if it took the whole weekend to do so. 

Peter sat down by the helm, pulling up the map he’d bought from the general store. He squinted at the simple map, taking in the ‘X’ marked in red on it. When he’d asked the store owner to mark the Lonely Cove for him, she’d given him a wary look but relented with only a small mutter about teenagers and their dares. He didn’t bother correcting her assumption, even though he was well past his teenage years. 

True to Roan’s words, the mark was northwest of his house, and so he’d started in that direction. It was difficult to keep track of where he was once he left the dock, but the cove was actually slightly visible from the shore, so he was reasonably confident that he’d be able to keep himself oriented by sight of the shoreline.

It took about an hour of guiding the ship, his anxious thoughts only broken by the stuttered puttering of his boat before he finally reached the rock formation. Up close, it was huge, certainly bigger than his pitiful shack of a house. He eyed the rocks warily, circling the formation slowly in his boat before he found an opening. It was with a sinking heart that he realized his boat wouldn’t be able to make it into the narrow space between storm-smoothed stones. 

He wavered for a moment before sighing and anchoring his boat near the entrance. To be safe, he threw a rope over a stalagmite and climbed over the side of the boat. He lowered himself into the water and held onto the rope as he pulled himself towards the stalagmite and the rock that served as a ‘floor’ for the cove. The entrance was dark, and he was thankful he’d thought to bring a waterproof flashlight as he clambered onto the cool surface of the cove. He shivered, but the wind blowing in and out of the cove dried him rather quickly. The wind certainly helped with the eerie ambience, a muted howling and whistling sound echoing against the rocks as he turned on his flashlight and entered the Lonely Cove. 

The moment he was swallowed up by the cove, everything seemed to go silent. Peter blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness of the cave, finally realizing it wasn’t as dark as he’d originally imagined. The walls glittered and shone with refracted light, parts of them seeming to glow a pulsating, gentle blue. Curious, but cautious, he reached out and pressed his fingers against the bioluminescence, expecting the yielding pressure of a moss or myconid, but felt only shards of crystal protruding from the sea-worn walls. As if reacting to his touch, the crystals beneath his hand shone brighter for a split second before dulling back down to a more subdued glow. 

Peter let out a peal of laughter, amazed and delighted by these strange rocks and the secluded peace he’d found in this cove. He turned around and swept his flashlight through the place. It was a surprisingly large space, and Peter chalked it up to the small entrance giving the cove the illusion of a compact space, when in fact it could give a two story house a run for its money. The cove itself was shaped like a half moon, with the water rushing in and out creating a crater in the center. The outer edges formed a crescent moon shape with enough rock for it to be a sizable walkway. Hell, Peter could probably lay down with his head facing the wall, and his feet still wouldn’t dip into the pool of water in the center. It was quite a lot of space, and if Peter wasn’t a person who needed electricity and the internet to live, then he’d probably just stay here. 

On his second pass with his flashlight, something further within glinted. He tilted his head and squinted, trying to make it out from here, but it was too dark to pinpoint any details even with the aid of the glowing crystals. He hesitated, glancing back at the entrance where his boat was moored. It was almost noon, and the sun was high in the sky. From here, it seemed like the boat was a safe haven, an escape from whatever answers he would find. Deeper into the Lonely Cove was mystery, intrigue. Maybe even danger. 

Well, it’s not like Peter had anything else to lose. 

Straightening up and sending a quick mental apology to Aunt May and MJ, who would _not_ approve of his recklessness, he followed the mysterious thing on which he’d unwittingly shined his flashlight. Towards the back of the cave, the ‘land’ was much thicker, creating a large flat area unbroken by anything but the occasional bunch of rocks. Near the middle of the space was a slab of sorts, at ground level. On it were two lanterns and a few sharp but rudimentary tools. He stepped closer, eyeing the stone dagger and the open pearl shell next to it. There was also a reflective piece of glass there, jagged, as if it had been taken from a larger mirror. 

Against his better judgement, he picked up one of the lanterns and gave it a cursory look. It wasn’t antique, but it was certainly not modern. Still, the candle inside looked easy enough to light, and he had brought his matches with him in their waterproof box. 

He struck one and lit the candlewicks of both lanterns. They cast a flickering yellow glow onto the cove walls, competing with the blue crystals for light before they eventually settled. He let out a breath of relief, unsure what he thought would happen if he’d touched the items on what sort of looked like a sacrificial altar. There was no blood or anything unsavory to be seen, but the items on it certainly didn’t help the creepy vibe it gave off. 

Peter was about to call it a day and leave when he heard a small splash that interrupted the sound of lapping waves that served as background noise. Without his enhanced senses, he probably would not have heard it, but as it was he was hyper alert, and the slight change in the rhythmic flow of water startled him. He yelped and whipped around, flailing and accidentally triggering his spinnerets. He had just enough time to see slitted yellow eyes staring at him from slightly above the water before they widened and ducked underwater, dodging his attack. 

For a split second, he froze. Then, mortified, he scrambled away from the water’s edge in case whatever it was decided to retaliate, rambling the whole time. “I’m so fucking sorry, oh my god! You were probably just swimming here peacefully, and I just attacked you! Please don’t tell Aunt May, I promise I won’t do it again,” Peter paused, catching his breath as he stared warily at the suspiciously still waters. “Unless you were trying to sneak up on me and have me for dinner. Then I don’t apologize because you deserved it.” 

He waited a moment longer and just when he was getting impatient, the mysterious person popped back up. This time, he seemed to be warier, watching Peter with large, woeful eyes. When Peter held his breath and didn’t move, the thing glided closer and surfaced enough that Peter could take in his whole face and broad shoulders. He looked similar to a human, if it wasn’t for the fins where his ears should be and the gills on his neck. The fins were a red and black pattern, and the light of the lanterns were just dim enough that the fin’s bioluminescent spots shone through. They pulsated in a pattern, brightening then dimming with a red glow. They must have been large once, but most of it was in tatters, drooping in a rather pitiful manner. The parts that weren’t torn apart were heavily scarred, just like the rest of him. 

Despite that, the man was astonishingly handsome. It was the scars that brought back a sense memory, of textured lips on his. He darted his eyes to the merperson’s (if that was indeed what the lovely creature was) scarred lips and gasped when the sight confirmed his suspicions. 

“You’re the one who saved me. You’re a merman, aren’t you?” Peter breathed out, mesmerized as the creature swam closer and closer, until they were almost within touching distance. He seemed just as taken with Peter, eyes darting over Peter’s features with a hint of astonishment. 

“I don’t know if you can understand me, but you don’t have to be scared of me. I won’t hurt you. My name is Peter, what’s yours?” Peter reached a hand out slowly, drawn in by the almost palatable curiosity the creature gave off. There was an air of innocence to him, covered by a wariness that made Peter wonder what made him so cautious. Judging by the scars, the story probably wasn’t a happy one.

The creature’s eyes softened, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, revealing rows of serrated and sharp teeth. Peter flinched, and had just enough control not to snatch his hand back, but that moment of fear was enough. The merman’s face fell, and he turned around to leave. 

“Wait I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that. I was just startled,” Peter tried to apologize, but it fell on deaf ears as the merman dove into the ocean, giving Peter a tantalizing flash of beautiful scales and a strong tail before disappearing. 

Peter let his hand drop and then roughly dragged it through his hair. 

“Fuck.” 

He’d promised the merman he had nothing to fear, yet had shown fear at the first hint of anything non-human about him. He was an asshole and he’d fucked up. Especially since this was also the creature who had saved him, and he’d repaid him with a harsh judgment that he didn’t deserve. 

“Peter Parker, you are a fucking idiot,” He muttered. He let himself wallow in self-pity for a moment before gathering his things and blowing out the lanterns. With one last glance around the cove he left, a defeated slump to his shoulders. 

He had some making up to do, and he wasn’t Peter Parker if he just gave up when he’d wronged someone. 


	2. Chapter 2

Wade swam away from his cove at top speed, internally screaming and then outwardly sending out a screech that stunned the nearby sea creatures when he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He paused in his frantic swimming, flipping his large tail fin back and forth as he let his shoulders slump. 

He knew that he shouldn’t have gotten near the human — _Peter_ , his mind seemed to whisper reverently — but he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of being closer to the beautiful man. At first, when he’d felt vibrations of movement through the water from the cove, he’d assumed it was one of the locals dropping by to visit him. Without thinking, he’d popped his head up and was instead met with the most gorgeous ass he’d had the pleasure of seeing. Merpeople didn’t exactly have an ass, as he’d learned when comparing with the townspeople, because their lower half was one sinuous length of scale and fins. But that was certainly one of the more appealing parts of humanity and Peter had it in spades. 

He’d tried to sneakily leave but somehow Peter had heard him, which was unusual because he knew human hearing was rather weak compared to his. Peter’s voice was just as enchanting as the rest of him, and if Wade didn’t know better he would have suspected Peter was a Siren just like him.

 _Or, ex-Siren in his case_ , Wade thought bitterly. After all, it’s not like he could entice anyone with his fucked up skin and disgusting face. He looked like rotten clam flesh on his better days and fish guts on his worst. He’d gotten his hopes up when Peter hadn’t run screaming at his ugliness, but he should have known better. Maybe Peter wasn’t disgusted by him, but he was certainly afraid of him. 

Still, it was a better reaction than his pod had shown. When he’d been captured and taken by humans, heavily tortured and cut into like a piece of meat, he’d thought he was done for. He wasn’t the only one there either. He’d heard screams, human ones, just as pained and desperate as his own had been, echoing through the facility at odd hours of the night. They experimented on all manners of creatures, human or otherwise, and he was one of the unlucky few they’d managed to get their hands on. He’d sacrificed himself to distract the humans, allowing his pod to swim away and hide deep enough in the open sea that they would be safe.

He had believed it was worth it. As long as his people were safe then he would take any manner of torture from these cruel humans. They had opened him up to touch his organs, burnt him until his voice gave out from his desperate screams, subjected him to what they called ‘acid’ to test his resistance to it. Anything they could harm him with, they tried. By the end of it, his reflection in some of the metal parts in the lab was almost unrecognizable to him, his once flawless skin pocketed with open sores and his long, blond hair shorn from a ruined scalp. He’d wished for death, then, torn to pieces both mentally and emotionally by the sight of how deeply they had changed him. 

He’d swiftly learned the weird grunts and sharp sounds that flew out of humans’ mouths like knives were actually attempts at communication with each other. It was so different from the melodic, pitched screeches his people used that it took him a while to learn their ‘words.’ Once he did, he was able to anticipate what they would torture him with that day. He wasn’t sure if knowing beforehand made it worse or better. Still, he kept his knowledge to himself, hoping that they would slip up and say something that could help him escape if they thought him too dumb to understand the human language. 

Then, on the day that he’d been set to have his tail amputated, an alarm had sounded through the compound. There were shouts of something about an intruder stealing information, and that moment of distraction was enough for Wade to rip the throat out of the scientist trying to strap him down and make quick work of the rest. It had been exceedingly painful dragging himself out of the facility, but the area they’d kept him in was secluded enough that he was able to make his escape. He’d been a top secret project, and it worked in his favor. 

It wasn’t like he expected a warm welcome from his pod. They were a hodge podge of orphans and merciless Sirens, after all. But he had expected more than the disgusted looks he’d been given and the firm decree that if he wasn’t beautiful anymore, then he was better off dead. He wouldn’t be able to lure others to him if he wasn’t attractive. Wade had been stunned, and even the ugliest Siren in their pod, Weasel, hadn’t met his eyes as he was ushered out of their territory and left to fend for himself, wounded and bleeding. 

He’d been so angry then, not only betrayed by his people but humiliated that he had risked everything for a pod he had believed to be his family. They hadn’t always been the closest, sure, but he had thought they cared at least a little for him. 

Abandoned and distraught, he had swum for hours, trying to find someplace he could rest safely. It was by chance that he’d found the Lonely Cove, and though it was a bit closer to human land than he would have wanted, he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he’d experienced from humans was pain and suffering. If they wanted to finish the job then he would welcome it. 

When he woke up, he was surprised to find himself still alive and his wounds healing swiftly now that he wasn’t constantly under stress. He’d taken a better look around and decided that he had nowhere else to go so he would settle in this cove. A Siren without a pod. 

Alone. 

Years passed, and with it his curiosity outgrew his caution. He eventually grew tired of being isolated and started creeping closer and closer to human territory. He liked to watch them from afar, amused by their pitiful attempts to catch fish with those wide nets when all it took for him was a well-placed screech to render whole schools stunned for easy pickings. He started trying to help, herding the fish towards the nets. It wouldn’t do to have his human entertainment die from starvation, and he so did enjoy watching them. 

One of those times he got unlucky and tangled himself in their nets. His heart in his throat, he thought it would be a repeat of last time, and had thrashed around like his life depended on it because it surely would. He’d been pulled onto a small deck, and he’d hissed and whipped his tail frantically to deter the human hands trying to grab at him.

“ — alm down, I’m trying to help you!” 

Wade stilled at those words, chest heaving as he stared up at the young man who looked both distraught and scared. He knew he must look scary, with barred sharp teeth and eyes dilated from fear. Wade actively tried to calm down, lest he scare the man into attacking him first. 

“Good, that’s it,” the man soothed before taking out a small knife that looked very different from the ones Wade had seen. It didn’t seem all that sharp, in fact it was pretty much a thin piece of metal with a flat end that could _maybe_ cut someone shallowly if they tried really hard. That reassured him, and this time he wasn’t faking it as he held very still for the man. 

“I’ve seen you around, you know,” the man said nervously as he tentatively touched the thin netting that wrapped around Wade’s tail. When he wasn’t immediately savaged for getting too close, he started quickly and clumsily chopping at the net. “You’re not that bad. My friend — the one I borrowed this boat from — says you help them catch fish. But of course, the one time I attempt to do so I get something much larger than a fish. This is why I stick to wood carving. It’s an honorable trade, no matter what my ma says.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly and glanced up at Wade. 

Wade lounged, much more relaxed now as he idly swished his tail fin back and forth, making it just a little harder for the man to cut him free. He flashed him a shit-eating grin before he opened his mouth. “Wood… carving?” Wade mimicked the vowels and sounds carefully, and smirked proudly when the man looked up at him, startled. 

“You can talk?” He laughed, running a hand through his dark curls. “Of course you can. My name’s Roan by the way, and I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we mean you no harm. You’ve certainly helped our fishing business, and a lot of the locals may grumble about it, but secretly they’re pleased.” 

Wade stared at him, blinking a few times as his eyes slowly retracted and went back to being a slitted yellow. He tilted his head, wondering at how strange this human and town were before he quirked his lips up. It took him a moment to translate his name — a low distinct note in Siren language — to the more rough tones of humans. “Wade,” he nodded in response. 

And maybe his pod hadn’t wanted him, but these people hadn’t chased him out or told him he was useless. So maybe a pod didn’t need to be a hodgepodge of orphans and Sirens. Maybe a pod could be one Siren and a town of kind humans. 

He grinned, teeth sharp and glinting in the light and Roan smiled back. 

“Welcome to Corral, we’re a small community but I hope you’ll stick around.” 

And he did. 

xxxxxx

“Right.” 

Peter sat with his elbows on his knees in the one saggy couch in his house, hands steepled in a classically villainous pose as he pressed his mouth and chin against them. He squinted, mouth in a thin line, as he surveyed his audience. 

“Thank you for gathering here today. I know you are all busy people but I felt I needed some guidance on this.” 

There was silence, and Peter took that as a cue to continue. He pulled out a board that he’d stolen apprehended from the town’s recycling center. He figured it was free real estate if it was in the garbage, especially since he was doing the whole ‘recycle, reduce, reuse’ thing by repurposing what looked to be a child’s science fair board for his own scheming. 

The board was strategically covered in post-it notes and print outs of blurry mermaid-related sightings. Of course, most of them looked to be washed up seaweed on the beach, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Peter was ready to traverse all the corners of the internet until he found the answers he needed. 

“So, what we know so far is that the creature that saved me is a merperson of some sort.” Peter pointed to a cut out of the Little Mermaid where he’d badly photoshopped Ariel’s hair away to leave her bald just like his savior. “He is certainly not Disney approved and seems built for more violence than most mermaid lore would have you believe. Which leads me to my first point.” 

Peter pulled the Ariel print out away with a flourish, slapping the second picture that was revealed underneath. This one was a more dark rendition of a mermaid, their teeth sharp and hair flowing ominously in the water with clawed fingers outstretched towards the viewer. Peter uncapped a sharpie and scribbled on that one in bold letters ’SIREN.’ Feeling rather accomplished, Peter looked back to his audience. 

“The creature is not really the traditional harmless mermaid, if such a thing existed, but rather a Siren. They are much more dangerous and said to lure people to their deaths with their voices. Honestly what clued me into this is the fact that when he first saved me, that inhuman screech he let out had a certain… magic to it.” 

Peter frowned off into the distance, remembering the power in that voice, how his senses had tingled and warned him of the potential for violence in it. Shaking the thoughts off, he turned back to the board. 

“This leads me to my second point.” Peter pointed at a portrait of a knight being given a favor by a princess for saving her. I want to thank him with some gifts, but I also don’t want to be eaten or killed in the process. I have several options I think are fairly plausible.” 

He tapped his own lips, pursed as he squinted at the board, making a few scribbles here and there as he gestured at his post-it notes, each one a different plan of action. 

“I could try to leave stuff at the cove, which is the reasonable option, but that would leave me trapped if he decided to corner me. I could also try to sail out to sea and then chuck my gifts at his face if I see him and make a quick get-away on the boat, but he might take that as an attack. There is also no guarantee he can’t bewitch me with his voice if I tried any of these. So, thoughts?” 

He finally addressed his audience directly, staring them in their little wooden faces. There were five of them in attendance at his debriefing, sat in a neat row on his low coffee table. Most of them were misshapen horses from his wood carving sessions but one was a crude attempt at a fish. The fish was his best work yet, which was quite frankly rather tragic, as it looked like it was having a perpetual anxiety attack and its accusing stare pierced his very soul. 

“You’re right,” Peter sighed as he picked up the tortured fish. “I _could_ just ask Roan or Anash, but where’s the fun in that? They clearly know something, but what if this is some super secret town thing, and if I ask they have to kill me?” 

The fish’s gaping mouth didn’t provide him any wisdom, so he sighed and slumped back, throwing the poor thing at the horses and watching dispassionately as they toppled like dominos onto the table. He tilted his head, staring at the water stains on the ceiling as he thought. 

“Well, I have nothing else to lose. And Aunt May didn’t raise me to be ungrateful, so I have to pay him back somehow.” Peter clasped his fingers together and placed them on his lap, his eyes getting heavier with every blink as exhaustion caught up with him. “I don’t know why I’m so hung up on this. I guess…” 

_I guess when I looked into his eyes I saw myself._

“Lonely Cove,” Peter whispered as he slowly succumbed to sleep. “I wonder, was the cave named after him?”

He’d only ever seen such haunting loneliness in the mirror, and now he’s also seen it reflected in slitted yellow eyes. It didn’t sit right with him. Misery was his mistress, but that kind creature didn’t deserve it. 

That was his last thought before his breathing evened out, dreams of gifts and days spent in the cove running through his mind. 

xxxxxx

Wade perked up as he swam into his cove. He could smell fresh fish nearby and he darted around, trying to identify where the scent was coming from. It was rare that fish came into the cove. They all knew he lived around here, so they’d learned to avoid the area unless they wanted to become Wade’s next meal. 

He was hopeful that he would be able to snag an easy breakfast, especially if a fish was dumb enough to come into his territory, but after swimming around for a bit he slowed down his rapid pace. He drifted in the water, powerful tail moving in rhythmic motions to keep him afloat as he tilted his head in confusion. There was no fish in the waters, but he could smell it. 

Unless the fish wasn’t in the water. 

Wade squinted suspiciously as he poked his head above the surface, his ragged ear fins pinned close to his head as he swam towards the package on top of the stone table. He stared at it, then quickly looked around. 

Seeing and sensing no one, he moved close enough to pick it up. This close, he could finally smell what the overwhelming stench of fish had covered. There were traces of a human on it, one that smelled of danger and an attractive sort of spicy tang that Wade had only scented once before. His fins flared out, interest piqued as he opened the weirdly textured seaweed to find two rather small fish inside. 

He picked up one of the poor, small fishies by the tail, pinching it between his finger and thumb as he raised it up to his face. He squinted at them and then let out a huff. These were poisonous. The bright color on it clearly marked it as inedible, so whoever had put it here was really dumb if they thought they could trick Wade into eating it. 

Disgusted and more than a bit disgruntled, he tossed the package, fish and all, back onto the table and left in a huff. Seriously, he thought all the locals had gotten used to him. It wasn’t like them to prank him like this. 

Unless it wasn’t one of the locals that left it. 

Wade turned back abruptly, pinwheeling his arms as he spun around just a bit too fast to stay steady. He swam close to the weird seaweed again, sniffing it as he licked it a little to get a clearer taste. His nose wrinkled. Ah yes, this was indeed the taste of the beautiful human boy he’d saved. He was intimately familiar with it and the way it had felt to press his scarred lips against much smoother ones. Even if it had been to share air with the human, it was still a memory he cherished. It wasn’t like he got much action out here on his own. 

But then, why would the boy try to poison him? He may have been scared of Wade, but he didn’t seem especially malicious. Wade’s ear fins drooped, a pang in his heart as he poked at the package. Was he really so disgusting that Peter would try to kill him? 

He sunk down until his mouth was in the water and blew out, letting the bubbles tickle his nose as he thought. Well, it was more likely that he didn’t know they were poisonous. He’d lingered when Peter fished, wanting to be near even if Peter didn’t want him, and from his observations, he was a horrendous hunter. Seriously, Wade had even tried to herd fish towards his hook, and still he managed to let them get away. Even with a fishing net he somehow managed to fail.

Wade perked up, a smile on his lips as he straightened. Then this must be a courting gift! Sirens also left gifts of fish and other food as a way to show their ability to provide, and the way Peter had presented it and respectfully left it in his territory was similar to that.

…but what if it wasn’t? It didn’t make sense for it to be a courting gift if Peter was disgusted by him. 

Wade sighed, flopping back and letting himself sink into the water as he flipped his tail idly. Well, only time would tell. Until then, he would take the package as a gesture of his acceptance, just in case it really was a courting gift. 

Wade cheeks heated up, and he knew they would be blue with an embarrassed blush if he wasn’t avidly trying to ignore his own reactions to someone beautiful like Peter courting him. He’d never been courted before, more the type to dally in matings but rarely ever staying more than one season with a partner. Courting was serious though. It meant a lifelong mating bond. 

In the past, he would have made a joke and flirted with Peter, letting him know a mating was on the table but not a courtship. But Wade was lonely, and something about Peter made him feel like maybe they could be happy together. 

Hm, he better take the package before he forgot. Wouldn’t do to send the wrong message. After all the last thing he wanted was to reject such a sweet boy like Peter. 

Peter didn’t need to know that he wouldn’t eat them though.

xxxxxx

Peter strolled through the town, sending nods and smiles to those who greeted him. He was on a mission today, and he was determined to succeed. 

His plan of action to thank his savior was going well. However, he knew he was at a disadvantage. For one, he knew next to nothing about him and his species. If Peter was to give gifts that would show his proper appreciation, he needed to get more information on what exactly a merman or siren would actually enjoy. 

That was why, when he pushed his way with a tinkle of a bell into the local bookstore, he marched right up to the bespectacled woman there and straightened his back. “Do you have any books about mermaids or sirens?” 

She looked at him from over the top of her glasses, a searching gaze that went from a squinted wariness to a smug smirk in about ten seconds flat. She hummed, getting out from behind the counter as she closed the book she’d been reading and gestured for him to follow. 

“I see you met Wade.” 

Peter blinked, not expecting her to start a conversation. “Who?” 

She wasn’t facing him but he could tell she had just rolled her eyes. She reminded him so much of MJ at that moment it was almost disconcerting, though she looked closer to Anash’s age. “You know, mythical being that lives near our shores? About yea high,” she stretched a hand above her, “and covered in black, red, and white scales?” 

Peter was struck speechless by the fact that _someone_ in this godforsaken place had finally acknowledged that the Siren existed. He tried not to seem too eager, but he wasn’t able to hide his shock. “You — what? I thought you guys were being all secretive about it.” 

This time, she turned around and gave him a look with pursed lips and a raised brow. “That would be my overprotective sister Anash and our favorite craftsman Roan, who both like to think the less we talk about Wade the safer he is. That might be true, but I’m of the opinion that hiding knowledge only breeds fear and dissent.” 

She led him to a small section of tomes at the back and ran her fingers down a few of the spines, clearly looking for a specific one. A lot of the books looked like they had seen better days, but this was a used bookstore so he understood that the condition of the books varied. However, he couldn’t help but crinkle his nose at the large and heavy book she pulled out and promptly dropped into his outstretched hands. It was heavy, and very dusty. It also seemed to be worryingly old, and Peter fumbled as he tried to hold it in a way that wouldn’t crack the leather spine or rip the featherlight pages. 

“If you want answers, you come to me, Lilya. And I know you are a curious boy, you’re the type that won’t stop until you get answers.” The look in her eyes was piercing, and he felt exposed. It was just like when Roan had somehow managed to figure him out within days of their acquaintance. They were weirdly perceptive, and it showed that they were a good judge of character. It didn’t feel good being on the receiving end of their scrutiny though.

Peter pressed his lips together, the words striking a chord within him. “You don’t know me.” The words were clipped, and he held the book tight to his chest.

“Don’t lie.” She tsked in admonition. “I can see it in your eyes and I’m hoping that giving you the answers will be the road with the least amount of casualties.” She looked at him over her glasses, gaze softening as she took in his tense posture. “Wade has been through a lot. Don’t give him another thing to regret.” 

Slowly, Peter relaxed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before letting a small smile cross his lips. She meant well, and despite her bluntness, he could understand the sentiment. “Are you sure you’re not the overprotective one?” He teased. 

Lilya sighed, muttering a curse under her breath before smoothly changing the subject. “I thought you wanted answers. That book should give it to you. Was there any reason in particular why you wanted to know more about Wade?” 

Peter bit at his lip, tapping his fingertips against the book before coming to a decision. “He saved my life. I wanted to thank him with a gift, but I wasn’t sure what to get him.” 

Lilya let out a considering hum, a smirk on her lips as her eyes sparked with something that Peter did not trust. She carefully took the book from him and flipped open to a specific section before showing it to him. “This should have what you need. From what we can understand, it seems to be about the act of gift giving.” 

Peter glanced at the text, dismayed to find it wasn’t in a language he could identify, though the alphabet looked vaguely Cyrillic. “It’s not in English?” 

Lilya shrugged, though she did flip to the next page, which had diagrams and intricate drawings. “No, we’re not sure what language it is exactly, just that it’s old. Some parts of it, Anash and I managed to translate and we believe it might be proto-Russian in origin. Books come and go from here, but this one just kind of showed up one day and has never left the store since. Oddly enough, we’ve never been able to sell it. Considering its age, I suspect it’s worth a pretty price, even in this condition. There are pictures though, so I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Peter frowned, the excitement he’d felt dimming as he realized he probably wouldn’t be able to afford the book. “How much is it?” 

Lilya looked him up and down, taking in his ragged hoodie and the backpack he had slung on one shoulder — it had certainly seen better days. “Tell you what, you treat our boy right, and I’ll give this book to you for free. You’ll need money to get him gifts, of course, and I’d rather you spend it on Wade.” 

Peter perked up, eagerly but gently taking the book back from her as he placed it into his backpack. “Thank you! I really appreciate the help.”

Lilya nodded at him, a clear gesture of dismissal as she led him to the door. “Remember, you must use that section I showed you. Follow the diagrams _closely_. There are steps to this.” 

She seemed oddly insistent, but she had in fact done him a great favor, so he didn’t question it. He trusted that someone who so clearly cared about Wade would not put him in harm's way. 

When he stepped out of the shop, the sun was already setting. Peter smiled, heart lighter now that he had a clear lead on how to proceed with his gifts. He hoped Wade had liked the fish he’d left him, and next time he should have a better gift for the Siren.


	3. Chapter 3

Wade palmed the miniature wood offering with careful hands, his claws gentle on the wood as he picked it up. He squinted at it, eyes narrowed into slits. It appeared to be a creature of some sort, but it wasn’t any creature Wade had ever seen. 

He looked at the stone table in the cove, ear fins flaring out eagerly as he took in the beautiful dagger, the slice of fish, and the silky material that had come with the wooden creature. 

An offering of protection, one of sustenance, and one of luxury. Finished off with the wooden creation by Peter’s own hands, this was the most blunt courting proposal Wade had ever received. The dagger showed that Peter wanted to give Wade the means to protect himself. It was a gorgeous thing, the blade black and the handle a blood red with black leather wrapped in a criss cross shape. It matched the red-black ombre of his claws, and Wade wondered if that had been intentional. 

The slice of fish was a huge improvement from the small poisonous ones Wade had first been given. From a cursory sniff, it seemed to be a delicious slice of fatty tuna, rare in this region and one that Wade had always greatly enjoyed. Peter must’ve bought it from the humans. Admittedly, that wasn’t common. Often, the Siren doing the courting was meant to hunt the food down themselves to prove their ability to provide, but Peter was a human and their methods were different. 

The silky material was a sheer, almost iridescent dark blue in the weak streams of light coming in from the cove mouth. It reminded him of the night sky, filled with stars and glowing with the light of the moon. It felt heavenly on Wade’s skin, something that was novel. After his injuries, his scars remained sensitive, and he had forgone the draperies and jewels Sirens preferred. Nowadays, he was completely naked, in both human and Siren terms. This fabric somehow didn’t drag against his skin wrong and didn’t catch on his scales. If done right, he could use it as a sash for his waist, the silk a soft weight on the place where his scales met human skin. 

The wooden creature though… 

Wade laughed, a harsh pitched whistle undetectable by human ears, when he realized it was supposed to be a carving of him. He supposed it did look like him, if his top half had been an ugly goblin baby and his bottom half was a stiff, dead fish tail rather than a sinuous, powerful curve. The last courting gift was meant to be something that represented how the courter saw the one they courted, created by their own hands. Each of these items were meant to be given over time, but it seemed Peter had gotten impatient and showed his hand all at once. It was unusual, but not unheard of. 

“It’s so ugly,” Wade mused to no one in particular, mirth crinkling the corner of his eyes as he pressed his lips to the carving. “It’s perfect.” 

Maybe another Siren would have taken offense to this depiction. After all, Wade had seen courting gifts that blew this one out of the sea. Picturesque statues carved out of lava rock, a coral art piece decorated with pearls, he’d seen it all. Courting was a joyous occasion, and it was often done very publicly. Wade didn’t mind this kind of courting though. It almost felt like this relationship was just for them. That it was something for Peter and Wade, rather than a spectacle to be shared. 

Besides, there was almost something endearing about the lack of skill Peter showed in his carving. It was done earnestly and without malicious intent, and that was all that mattered to Wade. 

He frowned, placing the items on the stone and then wrapping them up carefully with the silk. Well, it would have mattered if Wade was on the market for a mate. As it stood, it was a little overwhelming having the attention of such an adorable human on him. Wade also hadn’t been courted, or even seen another Siren since his “accident.” He used to be very in demand, the most eligible bachelor in his corner of the sea. He’d courted and been courted, but it was only for brief mating periods where they inevitably parted ways amicably, sated.

They used to call him The Siren of Sirens, because he lured and seduced like the best of them, but he never kept anyone. In his mind’s eye, he remembered the earnest look Peter had, his wild hair as he clambered into the cove with determination. Wade was no longer the Siren he was, and Peter was certainly not someone he could imagine loving and leaving. He’d never kept any of his paramours, but maybe Peter would want to keep him. Still, his insecurities were a sea trench wide, and he really didn’t know how to respond to Peter’s very blunt courting. 

What Peter was proposing through his gifts wasn’t a one-season mating companion, but rather a permanent one. It wasn’t just ‘courting’, it was Courtship. It was a heavy weight, one that Wade was finding he wouldn’t mind carrying as long as he could have Peter. Wade was just out of practice, and Peter made him flustered. Maybe it would be better to reject this courtship. Wade was still healing, and he didn’t want to burden Peter with all his problems, especially since the young man seemed to have issues of his own. 

Wade hesitated, turning to go. A flash of a memory overtook him then, the nervous smile on Peter’s face as he’d placed his wrapped gift down with a gentle touch. The whisper of “I hope he likes it,” as he left the cove, none-the-wiser that Wade had been watching intently mostly underwater in a dark corner of the cave. Wade groaned and cursed under his breath, running a hand down his face as he stared up at the ceiling dotted with glowing blue rocks as if to ask, “Why me?” At the last second, he turned and snatched up the courtship package. A gift was a gift, and the tuna wouldn’t last long out here even if they were in colder weather now. It was better not to waste. 

That was what Wade told himself anyways, as he flipped and dove into the water, the package held tight to his chest with a smile on his face. 

xxxxxx

“I don’t understand your sudden obsession with fish.” 

Peter looked up from where he was finishing attempt number three at whittling a fish. His other pitiful creations sat on the table beside him, barely able to hold itself upright due to its misshapen shape. “Well, I _am_ a fisherman,” Peter reminded, a wry smile on his lips as he carefully formed each scale on the dark wood. 

Roan scoffed, “Not a good one.” 

“That’s uncalled for,” Peter pouted, sending fake-wounded eyes Roan’s way. This was common banter between them, as Roan still felt Peter was wasting his talents by trying to be a fisherman. Secretly, Peter thought so too, but being a fisherman also meant he had the freedom and the means to reach Wade’s cove. If the cost was having meager meals every day from the few fish he managed to catch, then he’d live with it. 

Roan rolled his eyes. “Yeah well, maybe try horses next. This clearly isn’t working for you.” 

Peter sighed, putting his tools down as he traced the rough wood with gentle fingers. Roan was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. The book had been rather clear in its depictions — as interpreted by Peter and what little he could understand — that the last gift was meant to reflect the person they were thanking. For Sirens, the mediums used ranged from sea stone to coral, but Peter only knew how to craft with wood. It was probably an unconventional gift, and he was very nervous on how it would be received by Wade, but what’s done is done. He could practice all he wanted now, but he’d already given Wade a wood carving. 

It wasn’t his best, but it had been filled with his well wishes and his gratitude. He hoped Wade would understand the feelings he put into it. 

“If you’re trying to woo a girl then maybe carve something you’re actually good at.” 

Peter startled out of his thoughts, realizing he’d been staring morosely at his hands long enough for Roan to comment on it. He looked up, baffled, as he studied the man. 

“What?” 

“That’s what this is all about right?” Roan gestured to the sad attempts at fish. “Who’s the lucky girl?” 

Peter huffed, cheeks flushing red as he tried to pull his thoughts together. “It’s not like that.” 

“Sure, and I also put in this much effort for every stranger I meet on the street.” Roan replied. He was rarely sarcastic, but Peter found that when he was, he went for the throat. “There’s something there, and you know it.” 

Peter frowned, picking up a new piece of wood as he started whittling. It wasn’t like that though! Roan didn’t know all the details. Gratitude was not the same as whatever Roan was implying. Peter knew the difference. 

Did he, though? 

Peter paused, hands still as he stared unseeing at the vague horse shape he was forming. 

True, Wade was more fascinating than most, and Peter had grown a rather unhealthy obsession with him after the Siren had saved his life, but that didn’t mean he was attracted to him. He thought back to the beautiful image Wade had made the only time he’d managed to catch a clear look of him. The way water had run in rivets down his scarred neck, the pulsing red glow of his ear fins, and the overwhelming loneliness hidden behind those yellow slitted eyes. It was those eyes, more than anything else, that made Peter’s breath catch in his throat. As if they knew each other on a soul-deep level despite never sharing a word. 

_Oh._

Peter blinked himself out of his daze, grateful Roan had not interrupted him. He could feel the older man’s curious gaze. 

It was a shock to Peter, though it probably shouldn’t have been, considering the amount of effort he’s put into befriending and thanking Wade. Realizing belatedly that he was attracted and perhaps a little bit in love with his savior was not in his agenda for today. That was fine. It was more than fine actually. He could handle this. 

He hissed, thumb welling up with blood as he moved too fast and cut himself. He drew the thumb to his mouth and sucked, the tang of iron on his tongue as he closed his eyes in defeat. 

He was so fucked. 

xxxxxx

The weather was bad today. 

Peter squinted, a bad feeling in his gut as he cast his fishing net and dragged it back in. He’d planned to visit the cove today after some fishing, but the skies were dark even though it was barely midday. There seemed to be static in the air, and Peter still didn’t fully understand the mutations he’d undergone and their effects, but everything in him was telling him to go home and hunker down for the day. 

The hairs on his arms stood up as he grunted and dragged his net back, a few fish in it. Most he tossed back out, experienced enough now to recognize the poisonous ones. Peter winced, remembering how he’d gifted Wade two of his colorful ones, thinking the Siren would appreciate the pretty snack. It wasn’t until after he’d tried to sell them in the market that some of the other stall owners pulled him aside and kindly explained to him that the fish contained deadly toxins. 

It had sent Peter into a worried frenzy about how he might have poisoned his savior, but since then he’d felt eyes on him while he visited the cove. He could only assume Wade had not eaten them or he was immune to any toxins as a Siren. 

Peter brought a hand up to cover his eyes from the buffeting winds, barely hanging onto the boat as he rocked to and fro in the waters. He stared out at the dark clouds on the horizon, calculating their distance. Based on the book Lilya had given him, Peter was supposed to check if his gifts were accepted five days after he had given them. And if they were, he was supposed to present the final one in order to show his sincerity in the gestures. 

He’d carried the horse carving in the pocket of his long waterproof overcoat since then. It was his best yet, and he was very proud of it. He hoped Wade would like it too. Peter wasn’t sure how strict the timeline was on these gifts, but from what he could interpret it was fairly serious. Not showing up to check if his gifts were well-received and present his final one could be seen as rude and insincere. 

Mind made up, Peter quickly put away his things, boat pointed towards the Lonely Cove as he pushed his engine to its limits, fighting against the frothing waves to make it in time. If he hurried, he could drop off the gift and then head back home to wait out the storm. Truthfully, he was also concerned for the Siren. He wasn’t too sure where Wade lived, just that it seemed to be near the cove. Hopefully Wade would be safe from the coming storm. 

He could already hear Anash’s admonishments about risking himself and catching a cold. Peter winced, sending a silent apology to the healer. This was something too important to him to mess up. Besides, if things got worse, he could always ride out the storm in the cove. Peter was sure he had enough supplies to last the night there, not to mention his fresh if rather pitiful haul of fish that he could eat if worse came to worse. 

He’d be fine. 

xxxxxx

Wade had to wonder sometimes about his taste in romantic interests. It wasn’t that Peter wasn’t attractive. In fact, that might be the one thing going for him other than his kind demeanor. 

The human, however, lacked any sort of self-preservation instinct. 

Wade watched, incredulous, as Peter dipped his boot into the freezing waters tentatively before stumbling back with a yelp and letting out a series of curses. The water swirled around them, the waves crashing harder and harder. Any sensible person would have left a while ago, but Peter had gone deep into the cove to leave his present at the stone table, and by the time he made it to the entrance, the water levels had already risen to cut off the short path that he could take to reach his boat. His boat was also barely hanging on by a fraying rope around one of the stalagmites, rocking violently with the waves and emitting a worrying groan. 

Wade watched for a moment longer, strong tail keeping him in place as he swayed with the waves. He was hidden in his favorite corner of the cove, just behind some stalagmites. It was his preferred spot for staring at Peter every time the human came by with gifts. He was a pretty sight, even if Wade didn’t know how to talk to him. 

Wade used to be a master of seduction. He could charm any Siren out of their jewels with nothing but a few well-placed words and a smirk. Nowadays, it had been a long time since he’s felt desired. The most company he ever had was when Roan came by to check on him, to make sure he hadn’t died. 

The issue was that Peter was not just a pretty face, he also made Wade want to impress him. Wade sighed, squinting dubiously as Peter shook his arms and seemed to be psyching himself up to jump into the water and swim to his boat. Maybe impressing such a disastrous human wouldn’t be too hard though. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

Peter screamed, pitched enough for Wade to slap his clawed hands over his ears, sharp teeth bared in a grimace. 

“You’ve sure got a set of lungs on you. Makes me wonder how you drowned so fast the first time we met.” 

“Wh — you — " Peter stuttered, pointing accusingly at him before letting out a huff and crossing his arms. 

“Yes. Me,” Wade teased. “The name’s Wade, though I’m sure the townspeople have spoken to you about me seeing as you’re still here. They’re a rather protective bunch. You should’ve seen what happened to the _last_ guy who came around trying to find out more about me. I heard he ran screaming from the town one night and never came back.” 

Peter blinked at him, looking a bit dazed from the onslaught of words. That was understandable, Wade was a social Siren, and being alone with no one to talk to but himself grew tiring after a while. Honestly, the rambling wasn’t even that bad, considering how long it’s been since he’s talked to a living being. And no, the fish didn’t count. They don’t understand half his babble and insults so it wasn’t as fun. 

“You can talk!” Peter finally blurted out, dumbfounded. 

Wade frowned, gesturing to himself and then Peter. “Yeah sweet cheeks, real good observation there. Half human, yeah? Of course I can talk. You sure you didn’t take a fall while I wasn’t looking? A bump to the head can knock some shells loose, let me tell you.” 

Peter’s lips quirked up, eyes shining with delight. “You know, I thought you’d be more…” Peter trailed off before shaking his head, a rueful smile on his lips as he rubbed at the back of his head. “But it doesn’t matter, you’re better than I ever imagined.” 

Wade swam closer as Peter spoke, just enough so that he could cross his arms and rest his head on them, glancing up at Peter enticingly. His tail flipped up behind him, leaving him almost entirely horizontal as the water lapped at the rock floor, rocking him slightly. His translucent white fin adopted a light blue tint from the glow of the cave crystals, something Wade had been fascinated by the first time he’d discovered the cave. He knew he made a pretty picture if one didn’t take into account his damaged human half, as his tail had survived and recovered from his tortures quite well. “Like what you see?” 

“I always did,” Peter replied, too sincere for Wade to process. He crouched down till they were almost level, Peter just a little higher than Wade as he smiled down at him, a hand stretched out to hover over his biceps. He seemed drawn to the patches of scales on Wade’s arms, many of the once pretty patches broken up by his scars. “But your personality is pretty great too.” 

“Hm,” Wade smirked, heart jumping as he tried to ignore the flush on his cheeks. He flexed, grin widening when Peter’s hands finally landed on his rough skin, warm and steady even as the water buffeted around him. He flipped his tail, propelling himself out of the water until he forced Peter to sit back on his ass or risk falling. This time, it was Wade that towered over Peter, his torso completely out of the water as he hoisted himself up with strong arms on the cold rock. “You’re not so bad looking yourself, baby boy.” He tilted his head, eyes dilating until barely any yellow was left as he stared at Peter’s lips, drawn in by his nervous nibbling, leaving his lips a plump red temptation.

“Oh,” Peter breathed out, flushing prettily as he seemed to realize Wade’s distraction. He cleared his throat and backed up, enough that he could stand without knocking into Wade. “I’m sure you say that to all the pretty Sirens.” 

Wade didn’t bother correcting him. He hadn’t seen another Siren in decades, but his sob story wasn’t why Peter was here. Peter was back to glaring at the water and the entrance to the cave, shoulders tense as he seemed to realize it wasn’t going to be so easy getting out. After a few more minutes of struggling with himself, Peter seemed to come to a decision. 

“Do you think you could take me out to the boat?” Peter asked hopefully. 

Wade frowned, sympathy in his eyes as he shook his head. “Sorry babe, there’s no chance of that if you don’t want to get sick and bed-ridden. The waters are too strong anyways. Usually I’d be underwater where I can avoid the rest of it, but the storm is violent enough that even I’d have trouble navigating it.” 

“Oh,” Peter said quietly, disappointed. “Then I shouldn’t keep you here. Go. I’ll figure something out. I always do.” 

Wade tsked and sent him a look. “Yeah, no, I’m staying here with you till you figure something out. You humans aren’t made for the cold waters.” He didn’t mention that Peter was also worryingly prone to accidents. It would be just his luck to lose the one person willing to court him to a storm (again).

“I’ll be fine.” Peter shrugged helplessly, a shiver going through him as the wind blew heavy raindrops onto his mostly-soaked clothes and skin. He looked around before pointing deeper into the cove where it seemed to be dry. “I can spend the night there and head back out in the morning.” 

“If the rain won’t kill you, the wind will,” Wade argued, worry rising in him as he realized the situation may be more dire than he anticipated. “It’s going to be fin-shriveling cold either way.” 

“Well, it’s not like I have any other brilliant ideas,” Peter sighed, miserable. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing as it came away wet, his once bouncy hair now matted and water-logged. He tried to wring his hair where it had gotten longer, down past his neck. It was enough to tie into a tiny ponytail some days, but the wild curls still refused to obey him most days. Now, they looked more like limp worms than hair. 

Wade looked at him askance, too much mirth in his voice to be actually admonishing. “We need to talk about your tendency to put yourself in danger during storms.” 

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Peter quipped, hands on his hips as he glanced at Wade then the deepest part of the cove. “Do you think you could…?” 

His tail flipped, a thrill going through him at the knowledge that Peter wanted his company so badly. Still, it was dangerous to strand himself on land. “I can grab some stuff from your boat if you’d like,” Wade offered instead, shrugging apologetically. 

“That would be amazing.” Peter smiled, grateful. It turned into a more embarrassed quirk of the lips as he tugged at his longer hair. “My savior, yet again.” 

Peter liked to joke about Wade being his savior, but in truth they’d saved each other. His life before this crazy human stumbled into it was bleak and lonely at best. One day he would tell Peter that. How grateful he was, and how much brighter his world was with Peter in it. 

“I live to serve.” Wade bowed dramatically, hard to do when he was floating in water but it was a move he’d perfected. “I’ll be right back.” 

He turned to go but before he could, Peter called out to him. Glancing back at the human, he tilted his head in an unspoken question. 

“Um, not that I don’t think you’re capable, but how are you going to get onto the boat?” Peter was clearly concerned about him, but Wade just threw his head back and laughed. He flexed his arms, delighting in the heated look that Peter shot him before he looked away, as if to hide his desire. 

“These bad boys aren’t just for show. I can pull myself up your puny ladder without legs just fine. You sit your tight ass down, and I’ll be back with the goods.” 

Peter spluttered in offense behind him, likely not taking kindly to Wade’s comments on his beautiful posterior. Nonetheless, art must be appreciated, and in this case, Wade thought Peter should be aware of the jaw-dropping booty he had. 

Besides, a flustered Peter was super adorable, and Wade was quickly becoming addicted to it. 

The trip to the boat was quick, and getting onto it was just as easy as he’d anticipated. This wasn’t his first rodeo. Back when he was a young, rambunctious Siren, his pod used to dare each other to invade small boats just like this and steal one item from it to prove they’d made it on and off without detection. In hindsight, it had been unbelievably foolish, but it did help Wade get a handle on how to navigate human boats like Peter’s. 

Dragging himself across the deck by his arms was probably quite undignified, and he was glad Peter wasn’t there to watch him grunt and flop around like a Siren that had just grown in their fins. He managed to find several items he’d seen humans use, including a waterproof sleeping bag of sorts that contained various items inside. There was also another bag laying around, and peering inside, he found ice and a few dead, but fairly fresh, fish. Taking both, he hoisted them onto his shoulders to keep them mostly out of the water. 

By the time he made it back to Peter, the slight man was shivering periodically. Not a good sign for humans. 

Wade frowned and quickly laid the items out before them, pushing the sleeping bag close to Peter. “Here, I grabbed what I could, but I wasn’t sure what was important and what was not. If you need anything else from the boat, I can make another trip.”

Peter shook his head, though it was hard to tell if it was in answer to Wade or if he was just cold and shaking. “N-no it’s fine. There’s not much on the boat. I really hadn’t planned to spend the night out here. What you grabbed is my emergency supplies. They’ll keep me alive through the night,” Peter sneezed, wiping at his nose with a sleeve as he mumbled a quiet ‘hopefully’ into his sleeve. That certainly wasn’t reassuring.

Peter tried to smile at him but it came out more like a grimace, and Wade huffed, concerned. “Well, then get warm! Any colder and I’ll have to find some creative ways to keep you nice and toasty.” Wade waggled his eyebrows, tearing a bark of laughter out of Peter, as he’d intended. 

He relaxed. If Peter could still find humor in the situation, then things weren’t as dire as they’d feared. 

“I don’t suppose you have any way to start a fire in here?” Peter asked hopefully as he peered at Wade then at the corners of the dimly lit cove as if a pile of firewood would magically appear. 

“Sorry, sweet cheeks.” Wade shrugged apologetically, “Everything in here is always wet. Even if you found some, the amount of smoke it put off would choke you to death before the cold did.”

Peter sighed, the dramatic exhalation interrupted by a sudden sneeze as a strong gust of wind blew in. He sniffled and hugged his arms to his chest before glaring at the entrance of the cove. “It figures. We’ll just have to make do.” 


	4. Chapter 4

The waters were still rising. 

Peter huddled under the thermal blanket, thankful for his paranoid nature. When he’d decided on this whole fisherman business, he’d prepared the best way he could. That included a pack full of emergency supplies should he ever be stranded at sea. Of course, being stranded in a cove with a Siren for company during a storm was marginally better than if he’d been on his boat, but it still wasn’t exactly comfortable. 

The small electric lamp threw just enough light so that Peter could drag his phone out, trying to get it to work. Turns out, water didn’t mix well with cheap electronics, and no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn’t turn on again. He sighed, thunking his head back against the wall as he stared out at the raging waters. This far in, most of the rain couldn’t reach him, but the wind certainly could. 

Wade had gone into the waters to ‘catch them some dinner,’ whatever that meant. There was no fire, so it wasn’t like Peter could cook his food, but Wade seemed pretty knowledgeable on which types of seafood Peter could eat raw without getting sick. As he’d suspected, Roan and Wade were good friends, and fresh sashimi was apparently a meal they could both happily partake in while they caught up with one another. 

After all, it would be remiss not to take advantage of having a Siren friend, especially one who was more than happy to provide food in exchange for some pleasant company. That was what Wade had jokingly said anyways, but Peter remembered Roan’s protectiveness, something that was reflected in the townspeople, and he knew it wasn’t just free seafood that had elevated Wade into such high regard. 

A splash interrupted his musings, and he once again became aware of his shaking, the tremble in his limbs from the cold. The thermal blanket helped guard against the rain and most of the wind, yes, but it still required Peter to put off some sort of body heat to be useful.

“Daddy’s home, and he’s brought some grub,” Wade’s voice sang out as he dumped an armload of shellfish onto the rocks near the water. 

Peter sniffled and crawled closer, moving away from his protected spot against the far wall to inspect Wade’s offerings. He smiled, recognizing most of them. There were clams and oysters, all sorts of shellfish that were definitely safe for Peter to consume. It wasn’t until now that he realized he’d been starving, the cold consuming most of his thoughts. 

He startled when a wet hand found his cheek, tugging his face up to meet Wade’s scrutinizing look. The Siren’s eyes were slitted and glowed yellow, filled with concern as he carefully dragged one clawed thumb against Peter’s cheekbone. The hand felt surprisingly warm, and Peter’s eyelashes fluttered as he let out a shaky sigh and nuzzled into it, too cold to care about formalities. 

“Oh baby, you are chilly,” Wade frowned, tilting his head to the side as he darted his eyes over to Peter’s pile of stuff then back to Peter’s trembling form. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Peter opened his eyes slowly, sluggish as he tried to stay awake. That was bad. He was losing feeling in some of his limbs and to fall asleep now meant he might not wake back up. He studied Wade, taking in the pulsing red light that shone on their faces from Wade’s tattered yet beautiful ear fins. This close, the gentle glow almost felt like a caress on his skin, and Peter felt safe. 

He leaned in, eyes half-lidded as he wondered if Wade’s sharp teeth made kissing logistically difficult. 

“Peter?”

Wade’s voice was unsure but soft, his hand firm as he pushed Peter back until there was a bit more distance between them. 

“Not that I’m not loving where this is going but I want to do this right, and we’re not at that step yet,” Wade looked regretful, as if it was killing him to do so even as he took Peter’s hand and placed a clam in it. “Come on, eat and regain your strength.” 

Peter blinked, breaking out of his daze as he pried open the clam and ate the insides mechanically, almost unaware of his actions. He only had a second to ruminate over what Wade meant by ‘not being at that step yet’, before the taste and feel of food in his mouth overwhelmed him. After that, it was mostly a blur as he consumed all of the food Wade had caught for him, focused only on eating until he felt too full to move. 

He’d tried to offer Wade some, but he’d shook his head saying it was for Peter. In the end, Peter had gone back to his pile of stuff to dig out the fish he’d caught earlier in the day and presented them to Wade. They were certainly not as fresh as Wade’s offering, but he hoped Wade would appreciate it anyways. 

Wade had seemed touched by the offer and had eaten them in the end, making only one small quip about how this was a vast improvement from the last time Peter had given Wade poisonous fish.

“So you know,” Peter paused, licking his lips as he flushed and concentrated unnecessarily hard on gathering the empty shells into a pile. “That I, uh. That I wanted to say tha — " 

“Yeah I know,” Wade interrupted, just as flustered as he scratched sharp claws, an ombre of black to red tipped nails, against a scarred patch of skin on his neck. “You really didn’t have to, I’m flattered that such a sweet piece of ass like you is interested. Honored, really.” 

Peter furrowed his brows, tugging the thermal blanket tighter around himself until only his head and his unruly hair peaked out. “Of course I have to, you saved my life,” Peter stopped, confusion growing in him as he noticed Wade’s crestfallen look at his words, his ear fins pinned back and droopy. 

“Oh,” Wade breathed out, muttering something under his breath that sounded like ‘of course he’s only doing this because you saved his life’ but Peter wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Why else would he send thank you gifts to Wade? 

Wade seemed to recover though, and flashed him a rueful look, the quirk of his lips not really reaching his eyes. “You have a thing for knights in shining armor? That _is_ still a thing right?” 

Peter smiled. “Yes, but only in stories.” He knew Wade was trying to distract from the weird moment before, but Peter had been a rather persistent reporter in New York, and old habits died hard. “So, not that this conversation isn’t riveting, but I think you might have misunderstood something.” 

Wade glanced at him, eyes dilating and narrowing, slightly suspicious. “And what is that?” 

Peter huffed, tugging a hand out of his thermal blanket to rest it on Wade’s hand where it was holding him up on the rock. “I want to give you gifts both because of you saving my life, but also because I genuinely find you interesting,” Peter bit at his lip, focusing on a spot in the water instead of Wade’s face as he confessed. “The gifts were perhaps just an excuse to get closer to you. You’re the first non-human I’ve met, and I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, retracting his hand to thumb at his spinnerets, face dark with memories. “I guess it’s a relief to know I’m not alone anymore. That there are people like me out there.”

“People like you?” Wade parroted back, seemingly confused as those slitted eyes darted over Peter’s features and then down to the thermal blanket that hid his body. “Are you not…?” He trailed off, unsure how to ask a human if he was not human. 

Peter stood, letting the thermal blanket fall into a pile at his feet as he kicked it higher onto dry ground, away from the waters. “I realize this is the first time we’ve actually had a proper conversation so you didn’t know,” Peter was a bit sheepish as he fiddled with his spinnerets. “Although most of that was my fault.” 

The last part was mumbled but Wade heard him anyways if the hiss that fell out of him was any indication. “Our first meeting was disastrous and so was our second, but you know what? Clean slate. Back to the drawing board baby, we’re going to make this work!” 

Peter stared at him, looking down at the Siren who was much more ridiculous than he had anticipated and fell just a little harder. “Do you even know what half of that stuff is? Drawing board? You have that under the sea?” 

“Not really,” Wade waved a hand dismissively, nose in the air. “Obviously I am a genius, and your general human slangs are easy for me to pick up,” Wade paused before smirking at Peter, breaking his act. “And also Roan delights in teaching me metaphors and idioms that would baffle anyone that wasn’t human. He said it was to ‘help me blend in’, although I’m not sure how he expects me to when I’m this handsome.” Wade splashed his tail to make his point, the scales glittering in the blue glow of the gems in the cove, his tail fin wide and translucent. 

“Beautiful,” Peter whispered, awed by the ripple of muscles in the tail as Wade showed off. This was the first time he’d seen it close up, and his tail truly was huge. Perhaps it was proportional to Wade’s human half, as he looked ripped and muscular. It was hard not to notice, considering he was always shirtless. 

“What?” Wade blinked at him with wide eyes, clearly having heard Peter’s comment. 

Peter coughed and proceeded to very badly change the subject, ears flushed. “Oh, you’re wearing the silk sash I got you! It’s very pretty isn’t it?” 

Wade self-consciously touched the sash that he’d tied at his waist, right where his skin transitioned into scales. After the mutilation and torture he’d undergone, it always felt strange to him to wear anything he considered pretty or frivolous. Wearing it reminded him of the beauty he used to have, of how he’d reveled in being draped in jewels to complement his bewitching looks. Now, it was just a reminder of what he no longer had. 

The sash was tied so that one side of it flowed freely, the extra parts moving like a wave on his right. In some respects, it seemed invisible in the water, but at certain angles it would catch the light and shine like the night sky full of stars. It was beautiful, and Wade adored it even if he didn’t think he deserved to wear it. 

The self-deprecating smile on his face hurt, even as he gently touched the sash. “Yeah, it’s pretty. Would be prettier without all these scars though.” Wade gestured at himself. “Can’t hide what’s already fucked up, you know what I mean?” 

Peter scowled fiercely, heart hurting as he impulsively walked into the water, just enough for him to reach out and touch the sash, pressing his fingertips firmly to Wade’s waist. “Well I think it looks amazing, and so is the person underneath it,” Peter tilted his head, having to look up at Wade now that he was waist deep in water. “Or Siren, I guess, whatever you want to be called.” 

“…Did you just walk into freezing water during a storm after you just got warm under your shiny blanket just to make a point?” 

That wasn’t the response he expected, and Peter would have blushed if he wasn’t pale from the cold. His fingers shook and teeth chattered, really feeling the chill now as he shivered. “M-maybe?”

“You can call me your main squeeze, but I’m going to call you an idiot for doing this,” Wade sighed, shaking his head in reprimand even as he couldn’t hide the mirth in his eyes. “Now get out of the water before you catch a cold.” 

“I think it’s too late for that,” Peter muttered as he clambered out of the water rather ungracefully and tried to squeeze his soggy pants. That was a rather dumb move, but Peter wasn’t exactly known for giving up. He was a persistent person, especially when it came to reassuring those he loved. 

He stood, stunned for a moment, as he tried to ignore Wade’s humming, the Siren cleaning up the shells he’d finished and throwing them back into the ocean. Right, love. He wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole, not when Peter hadn’t even succeeded in making _friends_ with Wade. Although, he hoped after this unfortunate incident they’d be close to it. 

The howling wind grew louder in their silence, and Wade glanced at the entrance worriedly, lips pressed into a thin line. “I was just joking before, but I really do think all this wind and rain can’t be good for your fragile little human body.” 

“Not human, remember?” Peter sighed, though he was just as concerned. “I’m more resilient because of it.” 

“Yeah, but resilient doesn’t mean you still can’t hurt,” Wade argued, his ear fins flaring out in agitation before flattening. “I don’t like this, maybe you can call someone on that little radio thing of yours. Every boat I’ve seen has had one.” 

Peter grimaced, cursing himself. That was a very good suggestion, except for one problem. “The one I have is broken.” 

Wade frowned at him, looking like a stern dad for all the reproach in his glare. “Why didn’t you get that fixed? Don’t you humans have that for times just like this where you need help?” 

“I don’t really have the money for it,” Peter confessed, a smidgeon of shame filling him. “I know it’s necessary, but I figured that if anything happens I could just make it up as I go.” 

“I swear you have a death wish sometimes,” Wade hissed under his breath, clearly disgruntled as he scratched at a patch of scales on his collarbones. “Did you not learn anything from the first time you almost died and I had to save you?” 

Peter looked away and shuffled his feet, words a barely audible mumble. “I was a bit too distracted to think about a broken radio.” 

“Distracted by what?” Wade demanded, crossing his arms and somehow managing to look down his nose at Peter even though Peter was standing above him. “What could possibly be more important than your health and wellbeing? I am pretty much the master of bad decisions, and even I’m giving you the side-eye right now.” 

Peter didn’t want to admit he’d been distracted with Wade. About what to get him, how he was doing, if he’d be willing to talk to Peter or hang out with him. It was rather embarrassing how much of his thoughts had been consumed by Wade since he moved to this small coastal town. Of course, the townspeople were more than aware of it, and had relaxed their guard once they realized Peter wasn’t there to harm Wade but rather had a vested personal interest in him. 

Lilya had smirked at him once and called it a ‘crush,’ and he had denied it, but considering he had been buying harlequin novels with obviously photoshopped pictures of strong mermen holding beautiful women in their arms, it was a weak defense at best. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter huffed, though it clearly mattered a lot to Wade if the Siren’s glare was any indication. “I have a plan anyways.” 

“Oh do you?” Wade mocked, no vitriol in his words even as he sighed. “Do enlighten me. I’d like to see how you’re going to get yourself out of this one without my sexy kiss of life to keep you going.” 

Peter had planned to hastily cobble together a ‘plan’ to placate Wade, but his eyes lit up at his words. “Can you really make me warm with a kiss?” 

“No!” Wade responded, his face twisted with humor as he let out a strange whistling whine sound that Peter quickly realized was Wade’s laugh. Wade recovered, still wheezing tiny giggles as he sent Peter a smirk full of promise. “Although I’m sure there are other ways I can warm you up…” 

It was a hollow tease, with none of the weight Peter had anticipated, so it was easy to brush off. Wade was a natural flirt anyways, and though it had been a pleasant surprise, it also meant that Peter’s poor heart had to steel itself against those empty promises. 

“Well, my plan is better, and I think it’ll also show you what I can do.” 

Wade seemed curious enough to follow Peter as he walked along the edge of the rock floor until he hit the area where the water lapped at the land. Since the cove floor was in a crescent moon shape, it meant that the sides could go pretty close to the entrance, while the majority of the dry land was at the center-back of the cove. There wasn’t enough rock on the sides to provide more than a narrow walkway for Peter, but it was enough for his purposes. Peter was able to avoid the part of the cove where water rushed in and out rapidly, fueled by the storm, but he still got sprayed by water droplets. 

He shook his hands out, nerves overtaking him now that he had a clear idea of what he was going to do and who would be watching him. He’d never used his powers in front of humans before, and he was too cautious and a little fearful of his newly acquired abilities to use them much in his daily life. Still, this was Wade. If anyone could understand being a non-human ( _a monster_ , a part of him whispered one that he agreed with on his darker days), then it would be Wade. 

His boots and socks had been removed and set by his pack previously, as he’d wanted them to dry out, so he was left barefoot. That served his purposes perfectly, and with a deep, calming breath, he placed his hands on the rock wall by the entrance and started climbing. Wade’s yelp of surprise was almost satisfying in a way, seeing someone else just as shocked by his abilities as he’d been. He hadn’t had the time to exactly process all this before he’d had to get the hell out of Dodge — or New York as the case may be. 

It was freeing to climb and not have to worry about being ‘human’ or fear being judged for what he was now. He crawled until he could hang upside down from the ceiling, a few feet above where Wade was straining upwards in the middle of the water, eyes bright with wonder as he tipped his head back and observed Peter. They were a mirror of each other in that moment, one looking up and the other down, both reflections of something more than human. 

Peter’s hair dangled from his head, and he blew the long strands out of his face — he hadn’t noticed how long it’d gotten until now. Wade was staring up at him with dilated eyes, mouth open a little and his sharp teeth peeking out. His ear fins flared out and pulsed red then settled, then repeated that motion as if unsure how to react. It was almost cute, and Peter had to press a hand to his mouth to hold in a giggle at how much it looked like Wade was flapping his ears. 

“You’re like a monkey,” Wade breathed out, delighted as he flipped onto his back, tail wagging fiercely in excitement. The splashes were so vigorous in fact, that some of them flew up and hit Peter. 

He spluttered and wiped the water off his face, scowling down at Wade who seemed much too pleased about his antics. “No, I’m like a spider,” Peter corrected.

“What’s a spider?” 

Peter froze, baffled at first, and then realization hit him. Of course Wade wouldn’t know, he was a sea creature after all. And from what Peter knew, the only species of spiders that went on water stuck to ponds and rivers, not the raging waves of the ocean. “Um, fair point. Maybe it’s better you don’t know what they are.” 

Wade's mouth was agape, like a kid in a candy shop. His eyes practically sparkled with how delighted he was. “Are they vicious predators?” He whispered, as if asking too loud would summon these spiders.

Peter grinned, a feeling of mischief overtaking him as he answered. “Oh yes, very dangerous indeed. So bad, in fact, that they have fangs and venom. Sometimes their venom is even strong enough to kill. They wrap their victims in silk and then liquify their insides before slurping them up.” 

“That sounds _amazing_.” Wade splashed around eagerly, trying to get closer to Peter, even though he was too high up for Wade to reach. The Siren settled for swimming in rapid circles around Peter, clearly too giddy to stay still. “So you’re a spider.” 

“I’m not a spider,” Peter clarified, even as he bit hard at his bottom lip to keep from breaking into laughter. “I was bitten by a mutant one and got some of their powers.” 

“It sunk its venomous fangs into you and you _still_ survived?” Wade was almost swooning now, the back of one hand pressed dramatically to his forehead as he let out a love-struck sigh. “You must be so strong.” 

Staring into Wade’s sparkling, and quite literally glowing eyes, Peter decided it was better Wade didn’t know spiders were usually the size of a penny and that the venomous ones were rather rare. He puffed up his chest and held up his arm, gesturing at his spinnerets. “Oh yeah, it was pretty crazy. I can even do this now.” 

Peter flicked his wrist and shot out some of his webbing at Wade, laughing when he yelped and clawed at where it had stuck onto his cheek. When he peeled off the webbing, Wade pressed it between his thumb and fingers, fascinated. He sniffed it a few times, eyes dilating, and then carefully licked it. He made a face when it stuck to his tongue. 

“You can ejaculate from your wrists?” Wade rubbed his tongue, making ‘pft’ spitting sounds as he tried to get it off. “Th’t sounds kinky. Is this a human thing or a spider thing? Because I’m pretty sure in Roan’s sex talk he said that humans have their reproductive parts around the same area where Sirens have them.”

“I don’t come from my wrists!” Peter yelped, almost losing his grip on the ceiling when he flailed. He crossed his arms. “Roan gave you a sex talk? Wait — " Peter scrubbed a hand over his face, there was a more pressing matter he was baffled by. “You thought it was cum and you still licked it?” 

Wade froze where he was playing with the substance on his fingers, looking caught like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. “…yes? It seemed rude not to. You shot it at me and everything.”

“No!” Peter exclaimed, pointing a finger at Wade, voice shrill and cheeks flushed. “Do not eat or consume any mysterious white substances someone shoots at you. Especially if you think it’s cum!” 

Wade seemed to think it over, pouting. “Even if I asked for it and it’s agreed upon?” 

“That’s different and you know it,” Peter sighed, wondering how this was his life, hanging upside down in a cove giving a Siren a talk on not consuming random semen-like substances. “I am going to pretend this conversation never happened.” If Peter blushed any harder he would pass out from all the blood rushing to his head, better to quit while he was ahead.

Peter set to work weaving a web at the entrance of the cove, occasionally lowering himself down carefully on a strand so he could cover every corner. It was almost meditative, a push and pull of his flicking wrist and attaching webbing in a pattern that didn’t make sense to his human brain, but one that was instinctual regardless. By the time he was done he had worked up a sweat, panting in exhaustion but also overwhelmed with the feeling of the release of a post-workout. He hadn’t noticed how pent-up he’d been, not using his spinnerets at all or exercising any of his other powers until this moment. 

It felt like the tension he’d been holding since he’d changed, loosened. The circumstances that led to his powers may have been less-than-ideal, but he had to accept the results. They were a part of him now.

He carefully crawled on the ceiling till he was above the largest section of rock floor, right where the water lapped at the stone. He lowered himself down with a strand, and winced when he detached and settled onto his feet, upright once again. His wrists felt sore, but not in a bad way.

He rotated his wrists, and finally noticed that it had been strangely silent since he’d started his weaving. With the howling of the wind muted by the thick web he’d laid down, it was even more noticeable. 

He turned, concerned, but the words died on his lips when he saw Wade’s face. The Siren was facing away from him, but there was just enough light, and the angle was just right for Peter to read the absolute wonder in his face, eyes wide as he took in the web Peter had created. He followed Wade’s line of sight to the web, and _oh_ — 

He hadn’t realized how beautiful it was. 

It glittered in the light, partly illuminated by the blue glowing rocks in the cove, and partly letting in thin strands of moonlight whenever the storm clouds allowed it. The rain had coalesced on the webbing, glittering like diamonds — no, as if it had caught the very stars. The pattern was meticulously woven, a series of lines and curves that was more complex than any spider web he’d seen, but he attributed that to the influence of his human brain. 

It floated in the wind, wavering but never breaking as it billowed out like the finest silk and settled into the sturdiest barrier against the storm. It made Peter feel safe, looking at it, and he wasn’t sure if that was the mutation making him see the web and recognize _home_ or if it was because it protected him in a place he’s come to see as his. 

The Lonely Cove, not so lonely now that it had two inhabitants: one who chose to live his life among humans because his own people called him a monster, and one who had become monstrous in his own right and found understanding in someone non-human. 

Peter didn’t know what he thought in that moment, but it was overwhelming how much affection he had for this town, its people, and the monster they protected. Though by his estimations, he wasn’t too far off from being taken under their wing as well. It should have made him feel suffocated. Instead it just made him think of Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Of how they would have been overjoyed by the place he’s made for himself, in this small coastal town. 

“What do you think?” Peter asked, voice hoarse, fingers pressed against one of his spinnerets. It was astonishing how something so pretty could come from his hands.

“There’s a part of the ocean where I lived, that swirled in patterns. A powerful series of currents that could take you from one side of the ocean to the other.” 

It seemed like a non sequitur, but Peter was curious where this was going. “That sounds dangerous.” 

Wade seemed to shake himself out of his memories, smile wry as he touched the sash at his waist. “Maybe it was, but to me it was home. There was something about the chaos that spoke to me. It’s like, one wrong stroke and you’d be taken by the current, a force outside of what I could control. They’re kind of like the veins of the ocean, and I always found that cool.” 

Peter stayed quiet, but he moved close until he was standing on the edge of where the rock met the sea. Wade had a wistful look on him, a pained sort of longing that Peter had never seen before. 

“And this is kind of like that isn’t it? The web is like the veins of your home, if you were a spider. But you’re half spider, half man. A man spider! Spider man? We’ll work on that,” Wade chuckled, eyes squinted as he studied Peter. “It’s beautiful, is what I wanted to say. I’m kind of jealous you can build a home wherever you want.” 

The sense of displacement Wade felt, being in a place so far from other Sirens and even further from his home was clear enough that Peter understood what Wade meant without words. “I could make one for you too if you want.” 

“A home?” Wade looked tempted for a second before he shook his head. “Nah, this is enough. Maybe in the future, yeah?” 

Peter would not have been able to deny Wade anything in that moment, a hopeful look in Wade’s eyes as he offered up his heart on a platter. “Sure, sounds like a plan.” 

They smiled at each other, probably looking like a pair of fools with how badly they hid their affections. Peter sneezed, and that broke the moment.

Wade frowned, “Come on, bring your shiny blanket over and we’ll try to warm you up.” 

“Wade I don’t think — " 

“Not like that,” Wade rolled his eyes, though his grin was salacious as he purposefully bared his teeth and waggled his eyebrows. “Though I’m down for that later, baby boy. Right now, I’m just trying to make sure you don’t shiver to death.” 

Peter eyed the web, grateful for his quick thinking as it did actually help divert most of the rain and wind. “I should be fine.” 

“But you’ll feel like shit the whole time. Come on, get over here.” Wade swam over to the rock edge and hefted himself up until he was laying his upper body on the ground. His tail flipped decisively, helping him propel himself higher onto dry land. Wade had seemed to have misgivings about being on dry land before, but his concern for Peter outweighed them.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, alarmed as he rushed over to Wade with the blanket in hand. “You’re going to strand yourself!” 

“I’ll be fine,” Wade waved a clawed hand dismissively, “You’re here and you can push me back in if needed. But for that to happen you need to survive this storm. Now come on, sit in Daddy’s lap.” 

“I — " Peter was absolutely baffled by this point. “You want me to _what_?”

Wade was sitting upright, or the best he could as his tail laid mostly on dry land, with the more fragile fins dipping into the ocean. Since Wade was such a large Siren, it still left him several feet away from the water’s edge, with more than enough room for Peter to sit near him without risking getting wet by the lapping waves. “Sit in my lap, park that tushy on my scaly hide, rub bottoms with my tail, you get the picture.” 

“I really don’t,” Peter responded faintly even as he drew closer to Wade, as if unable to resist. Truly, Wade made a beautiful picture. He was holding himself up with little effort, one hand on the ground behind him to brace as his other clawed hand idly fiddled with the sash he wore. Peter’s eyes darted down his tail, taking in the koi fish pattern of the scales. It was a gorgeous pattern of white, red, and black, and Wade looked ethereal in the blue glow of the rocks and the scant moonlight that filtered in. 

Out of the water, the scars and abraded patches of scales on Wade’s human skin were more noticeable. Most of it was still intact, and Wade had beautiful patches of scales on various parts of his body. His gills, Peter noticed for the first time, were on the sides of his neck, slanted as if following his jawline. The gills were so thin when not in use that they looked more like scratches than anything. There were scales near there too, almost glowing in the dim light it reflected. Perhaps most attractive to Peter was his ear fins, a pulsating red glow that always seemed to highlight Wade’s sharp, gold eyes and handsome features. 

Unbidden, he sighed, knowing he sounded like a love-struck maiden but anyone would be when looking at someone as amazing as Wade. 

“Sorry, I can go back into the water if that’ll make you feel better.” 

Peter broke out of his daze at the self-conscious words, a certain edge of uncertainty to it that he didn’t like. “What do you mean?” 

Wade gestured to himself, his smile brittle. “I know it’s not a pretty sight. Not like you are. It can take some getting used to — " 

“Wade, you’re beautiful.” Peter blurted out, unable to hold back from interrupting when every word out of Wade’s mouth made him feel more horrified. “I was just enjoying the view.” 

“Right,” Wade scoffed, “And I’m the king of the ocean. You don’t have to butter me up, sweetheart. I know what I look like.” 

Perhaps he was blinded by indignation, or maybe Wade’s words were the thing that finally broke his patience, but in the blink of an eye Peter had stomped over and unceremoniously plopped himself into Wade’s lap. Wade’s hands flew to his hips instinctively, and Peter took advantage of his shock to wrap the blanket around both of them. He carefully gauged Wade’s reaction, taking in his gobsmacked expression before letting out a small huff and patting his cheek. “Get with the program. You’re hot stuff, and I won’t have you insulting my tastes by saying shit like that.” 

Wade slowly seemed to adjust to his new situation, a tentative smirk on his face. “That almost sounds like something I would say.” 

Peter shrugged, more than pleased with himself as he snuggled close. Wade was still very much wet, but his body heat made up for it. Besides, he would hopefully dry soon and they could get more comfortable. “Well, guess you should listen to yourself more often then. Besides, I am always right and if I say you’re hot then you’re hot.”

“You’re such a bossy brat,” Wade complained, but he sounded more awed than anything. A clawed hand came up to run through Peter’s mess of curls, his hair long enough for Wade to pleasantly pull at. 

Peter hummed, sleep tugging at him as his extremities warmed up. Wade was so large that he was able to essentially curl up into a ball on his lap, thighs on either side of his thick tail as he straddled him. Peter laid his head on Wade’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around him, too tired to care about how forward he was being. If Wade didn’t like it he could shove him into the water. 

“Aw, a sleepy baby. A cute little hibernating spider,” Wade cooed nonsensically, the splash of his tailfin the only indication of his barely restrained glee. The rest of him was held carefully still, as if reluctant to disturb Peter’s rest. Wade pressed his lips to Peter’s head, a subtle kiss as he nuzzled close. “Sleep well, I’ll wake you up once the storm is over.” 

“Won’t you get tired?” Peter slurred out, eyes blinking slower and slower till they fell shut. The position Wade was holding wasn’t exactly natural or comfortable. He was meant to be bendy and lithe in order to move freely in the ocean. Staying in one position essentially bent in half didn’t seem like it would be good for his spine, even if he was very flexible.

“I’ll be fine,” Wade hid his grin in Peter’s hair. “I don’t have these abs for nothing, baby. They’ll hold us both till the storm passes.” 

“Mmmf,” Peter moaned, pleasant shivers gliding down his back from the way Wade carded his clawed hand through his hair. “If you say so.” 

“Shhh,” Wade’s voice was distant now, barely heard over the sound of wind and waves. “Sleep.” 

And Peter did. 


	5. Chapter 5

“The thing about men, though, is that they’re stupid!” 

“Mm-hm,” Peter responded absentmindedly, phone held to his ear with a shoulder as he whittled at his fish carving. After the unfortunate fate his last phone met, he’d decided buying cheap phones was the way to go, especially if he planned to make frequent trips out to the cove. That way, it wouldn’t break the bank if he lost or broke them. 

“Peter, are you listening to me?” MJ complained, though her tone was more fond than annoyed. “Really, I don’t know what they’re feeding you over there, but you’ve been so distracted. First you move to a small town without saying goodbye to me, then you only call once a month! If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re avoiding me.”

“Of course not, MJ,” Peter reassured, though secretly he knew she was right. He hadn’t been intentionally avoiding his old life, but a part of him was scared that getting close to them would lead to more people being hurt because of him. The ocean air and friendly town had been a blessing in disguise, because he no longer thought that way. He knew he couldn’t live in fear forever, and he’d made a concentrated effort to contact his friends and family more. His distraction now was mostly due to a certain Siren that occupied his every thought. 

She huffed, teasing. “I know you, Peter Parker. That’s your ‘I’m hiding something juicy and don’t want to talk about it’ voice. What did you do? Meet someone new? Spend the night with someone exciting?” 

“Well,” Peter coughed, mind flashing back to the night of the storm. “Something like that.”

“Oh!” MJ crowed, laughing. “You sly dog! Who is this lucky lady?” 

“Uh, lucky guy,” Peter corrected carefully, before he got nervous and rambled a bit more. “Man. Definitely a person.” 

There was a pause. 

“You do know that sounded really suspicious — "

“Yes,” Peter interrupted, flustered. “But you’re not here just to nitpick at my love life. Tell me a bit more about what you’ve been up to.” 

“I’m always here to make sure you’re happy, Peter.” MJ’s voice was soft, and it made his heart swell knowing that despite everything, he still had people who loved him. She quickly cheered up though, snark back in her words as she went on to complain about Harry’s recent attempts to win back her affections and the antics of her incompetent coworkers. 

Peter smiled. It was nice having some normalcy in his life. He glanced down at the fish tail he was almost done carving and noticed it looked suspiciously like Wade’s tail. He sighed. There really was no escaping thoughts of the fascinating Siren. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

xxxxxx

The thing about men (or half-men) — more specifically Wade — was that they really were dumb. Peter wasn’t excluded of course, considering it was his bad life choices that led to him being stranded in a cove during a storm. 

Once the storm had passed, Peter had woken up stiff, groggy, and extremely confused. Wade had said he would wake Peter up after the storm was over, and judging by the daylight streaming through the tattered web, the storm had passed for a while now. 

It was then that he noticed Wade was a bit too still against him. Almost as if he wasn’t breathing. 

What followed was pure adrenaline and panic as Peter found a dehydrated and barely conscious Wade under him, which he then had to painstakingly roll and throw into the ocean while cursing up a storm. He’d crouched on his hands and knees at the edge of the rock, ignoring the fact that he was getting wet even though he’d finally managed to get dry, and stared intensely at the water. 

He had about five minutes to question whether or not he should turn himself in for murder of a mystical creature (because certainly Roan would have his ass for this) when Wade surfaced with a splash and a gasp. 

“You — !” Peter spluttered, tears in his eyes as he splashed water onto Wade’s dazed face. “Why didn’t you wake me up and go back into the water if you needed it?!” 

Wade had looked sheepish, sinking into the water until it covered his nose and blew some bubbles, muttering something in an unintelligible mumble. 

“You better have a damn good reason for this you — you fish for brains!” Peter pointed a stern finger at him, one that shook slightly. The anger was just a front for his fear. He truly had thought Wade was hurt because of him. Which, of course, fulfilled his worst nightmares of his loved ones being harmed because of him, but that might be a thing to ruminate on later with a bottle of alcohol and some copious amounts of therapy. 

Wade surfaced enough to gently take Peter’s hand, weaving his claws carefully through them. He pouted, eyes purposefully dilated so that he looked up at Peter under his lashes with puppy dog eyes, something Roan liked to accuse him of using regularly. Usually, these lethal weapons were only deployed when Wade wanted something or when he was trying to avoid being scolded. “But you were so cute curled up on me like that,” Wade whined, drawing closer and nuzzling the palm he held. “It would have been a crime to wake you up.” 

“Wade, what the fuck!” Peter almost wanted to slap him. “You can’t just die because I was too cute to move. That is the dumbest — I can’t believe — " Peter trailed off into inarticulate indignant noises and growls, absolutely baffled by Wade’s priorities. 

Wade for his part had just looked starstruck, smitten by how passionately beautiful Peter was when he was angry. His tail was wagging vigorously, and only part of the reason was because he had to stay afloat. Mostly he was still riding the high of staring at Peter for hours as he slept. Watching him snuffle and sigh was almost too adorable for his heart to handle.

“It was worth it.” Wade nodded solemnly. 

“Wade!” 

After the scolding Peter had given Wade, he’d been escorted to his boat and then, to Peter’s surprise, he accompanied him, swimming by the boat auntil Peter was safely docked. They hadn’t made plans to meet again, but Peter knew he’d be back soon. Wade had looked almost forlorn as he’d waved goodbye with a clawed hand, ear fins droopy and dejected. 

Hopefully their next hang out would be less death-defying. 

xxxxxx

Wade knew that the pearl was in his oyster. Or as Roan once said ‘the ball was in his court,’ which seemed to mean the same thing, though he wasn’t sure what a ball or court were. 

Either way, it was up to Wade to respond to the courtship now. It had taken a few weeks of thinking, but after the incident in the cove, Wade realized that there was no way he could reject Peter. Not only would it break Peter’s heart, he also just couldn’t go through with it. He was equally invested now, and what had started as a simmering attraction had now turned into a raging inferno of need and want. Peter was gorgeous, filled with a fiery personality that hid his softer, more caring side. 

He’d always had a thing for someone who could kick his ass, and boy, did Peter deliver that with copious amounts of sass and a surprising amount of strength. He was only dimly aware of it at the time, but he remembered Peter’s frantic hands on him as he rolled Wade towards the water only to give up and pick him up as if he weighed nothing before throwing him into the ocean. 

Thinking back, it had probably looked a little funny that such a lithe man was able to deadlift Wade, who was almost twice as broad as him with extra length because of his tail. To Wade it was just super hot. 

Wade studied the practice sand art he’d made, the symmetric lines and circles barely getting a stamp of approval under his critical eyes. He used his tail to sweep one of the lines away before carefully dragging his fin tip through the sand to re-draw it. There, now it was perfect. 

Sirens had many courting practices, but the one Wade had always excelled at was sand art. He didn’t know why they did it, or what purpose it served, but he’d been especially good at putting together delicate and beautiful art pieces that made all the Sirens swoon. It was almost instinctual, meditative as he drew lines and smoothed out circles until they were perfectly indented into the sand, ready for his chosen partner’s perusal. Of course, the sand art he’d made previously had a lot of effort put into it, but he knew this had to be his greatest piece yet. 

What Peter wanted with the courtship, and with the gifts he’d given, wasn’t a one season mating courtship. It was a life-bond, and the pressure was on for Wade to respond to the courtship with something just as amazing to show Peter that he meant business. 

Besides, Wade remembered the beautiful web Peter had made very clearly, and though it wasn’t meant as a courtship gift, it was stunning enough to rival any sand art Wade had seen. He would definitely need to be on that level if he wanted to show his appreciation for Peter. 

There was a slithering sound behind him and Wade whipped around, scowl on his face at the ready as his ‘neighbor’ came by, likely to laugh at him. The eel stared at him with its dumb beady eyes, mouth open in a smirk full of sharp teeth, as it rested placidly on a nearby rock formation. Wade already knew it was mocking his art. 

“Nobody invited you Stuart,” Wade growled, flipping the eel off, a gesture Roan had taught him that was seen as a sign of ultimate rudeness. Maybe the eel wouldn’t understand but it sure made Wade feel better. “Fuck off.” 

The eel drifted slightly in the water, moving with the flow as it leaned closer. Wade leaned back in response, hissing at it and clutching the few fish he’d caught close to his chest. He’d hunted before practicing his sand art, knowing it could take time and he would need a snack break. “No! These are not for you.” Wade pursed his lips and waved his hand at the eel insistently. “Now shoo!” 

Stuart the Asshole finally seemed to get with the program and left, slithering away as quickly as he came. What a dick, that one. Always trying to steal Wade’s fishes and critiquing his artwork.

He turned back to scrutinize the sand art, head tilted and a clawed hand on his cheek as he carefully diverted a wayward crab from ruining one of his lines. Hm, he wasn’t sure if this was good enough. He’d have to re-do it, but usually he had a general idea of what style a Siren preferred by their accessories… 

His ear fins flared out, pupils narrowing to slits as an idea came to him. Wade wasn’t alone anymore, he had friends. In fact, one of them was a mutual friend of Peter, if the wood carvings were any indication. Roan could probably give Wade some advice on this. 

xxxxxx

“You do know he can’t breathe underwater, right?” 

Wade blinked up at Roan where he was leaning against the side of the small boat. It was a paddle boat, just large enough to fit a human, and it was the one Roan used when he wanted to talk to Wade comfortably. 

“Yeah, he’s human. Can spiders breathe underwater?” Wade pressed his lips together before he could reveal more. Peter wasn’t completely human, but nowhere in Peter’s explanation had he said spiders could breathe underwater. 

Roan didn’t even blink at the non sequitur, quite used to Wade’s curious and often random questions. “No, they can’t.” 

“Okay,” Wade said carefully, still not following Roan’s train of thought. “What does Peter not being able to breathe underwater have anything to do with this?” 

Roan looked at him as if he was a little dumb, an expression he often had because admittedly Wade wasn’t the best at a lot of things. “How are you going to show him your sand art if it’s at the bottom of a very deep ocean?” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” Roan sighed, a small smile on his face as he patted Wade’s arm. “It’s alright though, I’m sure there’s another way you can make some nice pretty art for him. People like portraits right? Maybe you can make something on the rocks.” 

That was certainly an idea. Wade had never tried stone carvings before, though some of his brethren had been quite skilled at it. Still, if he did it right, it could be just as good as his sand art. 

Wade nodded decisively, too eagerly as his motions rocked the boat. Roan gave him a firm glare and he settled down, a grin on his face. “I can always count on you. You’re my best bro for a reason. Fist bump!” 

Roan indulged him, bumping his fist against Wade’s wet one. In the earlier days of their acquaintance, Roan had tried to teach him what a ‘high-five’ was as a method of celebration. It resulted in Wade slapping Roan’s hand and embedding his claws right into his fragile muscles. Roan still had the scars from that incident, and ever since then they stuck to fist bumps. 

Wade suspected that mastering the rock carving would take some time. Luckily, he had some ideas for gifts he could give in the meantime. 

xxxxxx

“I meant to give this to you on the day of the storm,” Peter started talking the minute he was inside the cove, forging as he was determined to give the final gift to Wade. He’d been interrupted by the storm but since then he’d held onto the horse carving, and it was way past the five day mark.

“More gifts?” There was amusement in Wade’s voice as he swam beside Peter, following him as Peter walked towards the center of the cove. Now that the storm had passed, there was much more land for Peter to comfortably sit on. 

“It’s not much, and I know it’s a bit late, but I hope you’ll still like it.” He crouched down at the water’s edge, biting at his bottom lip as he nervously palmed the horse figurine tucked away in his coat. Wade was holding himself up by his arms, eyes squinted happily as his tail languidly flipped out of the water, keeping him afloat. Wade made grabby hands, and it helped settle his nerves as he pulled it out and handed it to him. 

“Has it been five days already since your last gift? Honestly I don’t keep track of time well…” Wade trailed off as he took it and ran his fingers over it, a furrow in his brow. “What is this?” 

Peter rubbed at the back of his neck, hindered slightly by his long hair. He really needed to get a haircut. MJ would never let him live it down if she saw how scruffy he’d gotten. “It’s a horse. Does it not look like one? I thought this one was pretty good though.” 

Wade was quick to reassure him, sensing his despondent tone. “I’m sure it looks exactly like one! If I knew what it was that is. Or if I’ve ever seen a horse.” 

Peter’s eyes widened as he realized his fatal mistake, spluttering, he made to grab the horse back but stopped when Wade flared his ear fins out and hissed at him. “No take backs!” 

“I’m not — " Peter groaned. “Just give it to me, I’ll make you a better one. I can’t believe I didn’t think about the fact that you would have never seen a horse.” He paused and then frowned. “Wait, but you talked about knights.” 

“Yeah?” Wade swam a bit farther from Peter, protectively cupping his gift in his hands and watching him warily as if afraid he’d try to snatch it away again. “What does that have to do with this?” 

“Knights ride horses!” 

“They do?” Wade asked, baffled. “I still have no idea what this ‘horse’ is, but the knights I saw were always on ships traveling.” 

That explained a lot but also explained nothing at all. 

“Well, I’m sure you don’t want something you don’t know. I can make you a dolphin instead?” Peter tried to bargain, embarrassed. 

Wade bared his teeth. “Ew, no. Dolphins are assholes. I’d rather have this horse thing. You can explain it to me,” A look suddenly passed Wade’s face, like a light bulb had lit in his head. “Ohhh, is a horse like a seahorse?” 

“Um,” Peter scratched the tip of his nose, trying to think. “Not really? I mean I guess they have the same long faces.” He snapped his fingers, a smile on his face as he figured it out. “I got it! Horses are basically seahorses but with legs and feet.” 

Wade stared at Peter horrified, imagining cute seahorses but with human feet. “A seahorse with legs and feet?” 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded enthusiastically, “And they’re used to basically carry things or people.” 

Wade wrinkled his nose, taking out the horse to stare at it. It didn’t _look_ like those were human legs and feet, but what did he know about appendages? He had a tail, for fuck’s sake. “Humans are weird as fuck. You’ve got balls wanting to go near something like this.” 

“They’re not that bad,” Peter spoke up, confused as he tilted his head. “They’re actually pretty cute. So, do you accept the gift?” From what Peter had gathered, there were plenty of formalities and steps on this whole gift-giving business, and he was determined to get it all right. 

“I accept it,” Wade quickly replied, even as he gave dubious looks at his new creepy horse carving. “Though I might have nightmares about this thing.” 

“Oh good,” Peter sighed, deflating from the tense way he’d held himself, a little scared that Wade would throw the gift in his face or that he’d offended him somehow. He grinned, excitement rising in him as he realized that he’d completed all the steps to his very formal thank you, and that Wade would understand the meaning behind them. He hoped Wade knew how much he meant to him. 

“I have a gift for you too!” Wade declared, and before Peter could register the words Wade dove down, his tail flipping into the air gracefully before he sunk into the waters. 

He blinked at where Wade had just been, but it was only a few seconds before Wade surfaced again, a pouch made of seaweed in his hand. Wade seemed very proud of himself, his ear fins wiggling as he swam close and presented the pouch to Peter with a flourish. 

“Tada! Shiny things.” 

“You really didn’t have to,” Peter started even as he reached for the pouch, touched by the gesture. Was Wade trying to say that Peter’s thank you gifts were appreciated? 

Wade shot him a strange look. “Of course I do. I accepted and now it’s my turn.” His ear fins flared out, the pulsing red glow washing over them as he wiggled excitedly. “Open it!” 

Peter smiled and did as asked, but his jaw quickly fell as he took in the massive pile of pearls inside. “Wade, oh my god.” 

Wade deflated a bit, ear fins pinned back as his pupils narrowed. “Do you not like them?” 

“No, I mean, yes! I do, but they’re — " Peter waved helplessly at the incredibly expensive pearls and then to his horse figurine that Wade still had in his hands. “This is way too much.” 

Wade pouted, crossing his arms and cradling the figurine in them like a child. “No it’s not, they’re just pearls.” 

“Just pearls,” Peter repeated faintly as he closed his eyes and carefully tied the pouch closed again. He blew out a heavy breath, deciding that they’d had enough cultural differences today and he would just quietly accept it this time. “Thank you Wade, they’re beautiful.” 

“You’re welcome, sweet cheeks.” Wade replied, smiling. “Now let me help you put them on.” 

“Put them on?” Peter repeated dumbly, as today seemed to be a day of him being thrown off kilter every two seconds. 

“Yes?” Wade raised a brow. “You know, so there’s a clear claim on you. We usually weave it into the hair.” 

“I have no idea what any of that means, but sure if that’s what you want Wade,” Peter shrugged, defeated. Giving in seemed like the best order of business right now. He could look in the book about what this all meant later.

Wade let out a shrill squeal of happiness before he hefted himself until he was sitting on dry land. He tugged at Peter until he had his back facing him and was also sitting down. 

“You’re going to look so pretty,” Wade cooed, carding his claws carefully through Peter’s hair to untangle it. 

“Sure, Wade,” Peter smiled indulgently, leaning his head forward at Wade’s gentle guidance so Wade could start weaving the pearls into his hair. They were a multitude of colors. Peter didn’t even know there could be pearls with this many colors, but they sure were pretty. 

He closed his eyes, giving in to the gentle tugs as Wade sang a soft crooning song to him. It was beautiful, even with Wade’s slightly croaky voice from his damaged vocal chords. To Peter, it just made the sound more unique and appealing. 

“You should sing more often,” Peter murmured, doing his best to resemble a relaxed puddle, probably enjoying the feeling of Wade’s hands on him a little more than he should. 

The singing stopped long enough for Peter to try to turn his head, but Wade firmly stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Wade cleared his throat, hesitant. “You would like that? I haven’t sung much since the…” He trailed off. 

Peter reached up and placed a comforting hand on the one on his shoulder, hoping his strong grip would anchor Wade. “You can tell me, you know. I don’t know much, and Roan said if I wanted to know I should ask you directly.” 

“It’s not a pretty story,” Wade warned, his hand tensing enough that his claws dug into Peter’s skin for a brief moment before relaxing. 

“When is it ever?” Peter mused, something bitter in his tone. “I know that all too well. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” 

Wade seemed to be warring with himself in the silence, but eventually his curiosity and need to know more about Peter won out. “You drive a hard bargain, baby boy. Fine, let’s share each other’s sob stories and we’ll cry into our drinks afterwards.” 

“I have water?” Peter offered, knowing that wasn’t the type of drink Wade wanted. 

Wade chuckled, “That’ll do.” He pressed his forehead against the base of Peter’s neck, resting there. His breath ghosted over Peter’s skin a little shakily, raising goosebumps. 

“It all started when a handsome, buff Siren ran into some icky humans…” 

They talked until their voices went hoarse, both from usage and from the tears. By the end of it, Peter left the cove feeling lighter than he had in years, only weighed down by the very physical feeling of pearls in his hair. 

He felt empty. Purged of his fears and worries. He’d come to Corral seeking escape and maybe salvation as well. For someone to look at the mistakes he’d made, and tell him it wasn’t for naught. That he wasn’t alone in this world. 

Ironic that he’d find his equal in the Lonely Cove. 

Peter pressed a hand to his heart. And it’s just like him to fall in love so fucking easily. He’d traded one worry for another, it seemed. 

He straightened, steering his boat away from the cove as he shivered in the cold sea winds. No matter, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Wade was someone he would never regret knowing. 

A hand came up unbidden to his tightly woven hair, the pearls reflecting the light and throwing shapes on the boat occasionally. He smiled, remembering the feeling of being treated gently, like he was something to be cherished. He was grateful for Wade’s friendship, and if it wasn’t the kind of love he hoped for, well that was fine too. 

xxxxxx

Peter was glad to be friends with Wade. Really he was. Except, being friends with Wade apparently came with a very specific set of circumstances. In particular, an abundance of weird-ass gifts. 

Peter stared down at the bizarre, fluffy looking bones in his hands and wrinkled his nose, bewildered. He glanced up at Wade’s expectant grin, then to the bones again. Was this how Wade felt every time Peter had given him a gift? Constant confusion was not an emotion he enjoyed. “And this is?” 

“Whalebone,” Wade nodded proudly. He patted his stomach, drawing attention to where his abs blended into the patterned red-black-white scales of his tail. “For your corset.” 

“My what?” Peter looked down at his haphazardly tugged on plaid long sleeve and the overalls he’d slapped on top of it. Coupled with the bucket hat he’d chosen to wear to protect himself from sunburn, he wasn’t sure what about him screamed ‘corset’. 

Wade gestured to Peter. “You know, the thing that humans wear underneath all those layers? I don’t know why you all need so many layers. You’re like shivering little seal puppies except without the fat to keep you safe and warm.” 

“Wade, I don’t know what century you’re thinking of,” Peter explained slowly, holding onto the whalebone tightly like it was a lifeline. It was beautiful, true, but there truly was nothing he could use it for. Maybe he could carve it into something? “But people in this day and age don’t wear corsets anymore.”

“Oh,” Wade frowned, fiddling with his claws self-consciously. “So you don’t like it?” 

“No, I love it,” Peter reassured, reaching out to take Wade’s hand in his. “I’m sure I’ll find some use for it.” Peter was maybe lying a little, but he wasn’t about to reject what was surely a thoughtful and probably really expensive gift.

Wade perked up, his ear fins flaring once before settling back with a gentle pulsing red glow. “Awesome! I did fight a whale for you, you know,” Wade teased. 

Peter’s eyes widened, “Please tell me you didn’t kill a whale for me. They’re an endangered species.” 

Wade threw his head back, his laugh loud and with a shrill inhuman tone to it that echoed in the cove. “I’m just shitting you, baby. I know how much you like sea creatures,” Wade waggled his eyebrows at Peter, clearly referring to himself. “This was something I scavenged from an already dead whale decades ago.” 

Reassured by Wade’s words, he took the opportunity to tease him back. “Hm,” Peter mused, a fake thoughtful expression on his face as he tapped a finger on his lips. “I suppose I do have a soft spot for _some_ sea creatures.” 

“And boy am I glad you do!” Wade swam closer, grinning up at Peter. “Would make this whole thing hella awkward if you didn’t like me.” 

“ _Like_ is perhaps too strong a word,” Peter joked, just to hear Wade protest indignantly. 

Wade didn’t need to know that Peter’s feelings had long since passed like into love territory, but that was something he’d keep to himself. Peter smiled, his expression fond as he carefully touched the bristles of the whalebone. The occasional weird gift from Wade was a small price to pay to stay by his side. 


	6. Chapter 6

Wade inspected his land art, the dagger Peter had given him held loosely in one hand. The art was… certainly something. In fact, Wade would call it his greatest masterpiece. He truly was a genius for adapting to his mate’s inability to breathe underwater. A generous mate he was, and a handsome one. 

Or well, a scarred, fucked up, dead clam version of his past handsome self. But Peter didn’t seem to mind any of that so Wade tried to put his insecurities in the back of his mind to pull out again when he wanted to torture himself. 

All in a day’s work. Wade nodded proudly at his tableau on the cove floor, taking in the seaweed he’d used for Peter’s beautiful curly hair, the bits of seashell for the teeth and a rusty can lid he’d found for Peter’s glittering eyes. He’d even managed to catch some cute little crabs for Peter’s ears. They were almost the same color as Peter’s when he flushed red. He thought it was bizarre that human ears sometimes glowed red, and only when they seemed to be embarrassed. His own glowed a pulsing red all the time.

“What do you think?” Wade asked the horse figurine Peter made him, something he’d taken to carrying around with him everywhere just because it reminded him of Peter’s affections. He did the same with the sash and dagger after all, and these days he tended to tie them on his waist so they wouldn’t be lost while he swam. 

“Yes, I agree, Ms. Pinky,” Wade nodded magnanimously at the figurine. He poked her weird snout at the end of her long face, smiling. “It is perfect, and my beautiful baby boy is going to love it.” 

As if summoned by his thoughts, Wade picked up the now-familiar sound of a puttering old boat engine. Wade quickly flipped into the water, swimming to Peter’s side as he threw a rope onto a stalagmite and tugged to secure it. 

“Early today,” Wade commented, crossing his arms behind his head and floating on his back as he undulated his body, knowing that Peter appreciated the view. “Eager to see me?” 

Wade couldn’t see the look Peter shot him, but he knew from his tone he’d rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself,” a small pause, and then in a soft grumble, “but yes maybe I did.” 

Wade barely suppressed the cooing sound he wanted to let out. God, Peter was so adorable when he was being all grumpy. He was such an emotionally stunted boy, it was a good thing he’d met Wade who was the master at giving affection. 

“Come in then, I have something for you. You’re going to like this one.” 

Curious, Peter walked on the narrow rock beside him as he swam until they both reached the center of the cove. As they went, Wade glanced at Peter, noticing the lack of pearls in his hair. He scowled, a little hurt that Peter didn’t wear his gift. Maybe it didn’t hold the same weight with humans, but the pearls were not easy to come by and had been something he’d painstakingly gathered over the years to present to his chosen mate. 

They were an engagement gift, and Wade felt his heart sink seeing that Peter didn’t wear them. “So, not a fan of shiny things?” Wade asked, trying to be casual about it. 

Peter shrugged, “I like it enough I guess. I don’t hate it or love it.” He looked over at Wade, as if finally noticing the glare Wade had been shooting his offensively undecorated hair. He touched his hair self-consciously before scowling back at Wade. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” Wade quickly replied, knowing he’d blown his casual cover, not that he was good at hiding his feelings in the first place. “I just thought you would wear the pearls now that we’re, you know,” Wade waved a hand helplessly, not sure how to explain it in human terms. To a Siren, a successful courting was a big deal. After all, they had longer life spans and to spend it with only one chosen person was a big choice. 

“Oh,” Peter breathed, a bit sheepish as he scratched at his neck. “I was scared of losing them so I left them in the pouch back home. I can wear them if you’d like me to?” 

“It’s up to you,” Wade felt bad now for making a big deal out of it, but it settled him knowing that it wasn’t because Peter was rejecting his proposal. “Though you’d sure look pretty with a few pearls in your hair.” 

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Peter’s lips quirked up a little. “Now what was it you wanted to show me?” 

Nerves erupted in Wade’s stomach as he cleared his throat and then gestured to the portrait of Peter he’d carved and decorated on the cove floor. “I know it isn’t much, and I swear my sand drawings are much better, but this was the best I could do.” 

Peter stared down at the portrait with a weird expression on his face. “This looks great, Wade. Is this um, is that supposed to be you with…seaweed on your head?” 

Wade didn’t know what face he made but it must have been bad because Peter held his hands up beseechingly, regret on his face. “I’m sorry! Is that not it?” 

“No,” Wade grumbled, feeling stupid for trying, and hating the prickle of pain in his eyes. He couldn’t exactly cry tears and it was rare when he did as he spent most of his time underwater, but he could sure feel the uncomfortable sense of humiliation from this whole thing. “It’s supposed to be a drawing of you,” Wade corrected weakly, his cheeks puffing up as he pouted. 

He was overtaken by the urge to flee, and he couldn’t listen to Peter’s hasty apologies as he made his excuses and dived into the sea, off to nurse his bruised ego. Peter hadn’t exactly rejected his portrait, but Wade knew he’d need to figure something else out to make up for this failure. 

Though he definitely deserved a good underwater sulk for this.

xxxxxx

“I see you finally grew a pair of balls.” 

Peter startled at the words. Lilya was usually like this whenever he came in to peruse the books, but this greeting was weird even for her and at the moment he felt too fragile to deal with it. “I’m — what?” 

Lilya nodded at him, eyes on his hair as if that answered everything. “The pearls. Congrats by the way, it isn’t often that a human and a Siren work out their differences enough to get to this point.” 

Peter raised a hand to his hair, touching the pearls he’d weaved into his hair that morning. After the first time that Wade had done it for him, Peter had removed the pearls and kept them in the small pouch. Of course, after he’d unwittingly mortally offended Wade by insulting his rock carving, he would do anything to win back his affections. That included weaving as many goddamn pearls as Wade wanted in his hair if that was what would make him happy. “Wade likes it when I wear them,” Peter started carefully, feeling like he was missing about a thousand things in this conversation but too tired to care. It had been a few days since he’d seen Wade, and though he’d tried to visit to apologize, the Siren was never at the cove when he went. He’d slept like shit since then, and the bags under his eyes reflected that. His visit to the bookstore was partly routine and partly a desperate attempt to find something else about Siren culture that would help him apologize.

“Of course he does,” Lilya rolled her eyes, a smirk on her lips. “He’s a possessive little thing when he wants to be.” 

“What does that have to do with the pearls?” Peter asked, baffled. 

Lilya stared at him, her glasses sliding down her nose as she gaped at him. “You can’t be serious. I even gave you a book on this! You haven’t figured it out yet?” 

“You mean the Siren culture book I can’t  _ read _ ?” Peter stressed. 

“Oh for god’s — " Lilya muttered some curses and something that sounded suspiciously like ‘engaged and doesn’t even fucking know it,’ but Peter had no idea what she was referring to. She wrote a quick note on a piece of paper before folding it and shoving it into Peter’s hands. “Give this to Wade. I can’t believe I have to do everything around here.” She blew out a breath, “ _ Men _ .” 

Peter beat a hasty retreat after that, sensing that he’d somehow also managed to offend the rather prickly bookstore owner and knowing he was not welcome back until he delivered her message to Wade. This was just not his week. 

xxxxxx

“Wade?” Peter called out hesitantly as he stepped into the cove. He paused, but nothing greeted him except for the soft lap of waves and the glowing blue stones. He sighed, running a hand down his face, his other trying not to crumple the paper in his fist. “Please, I’m sorry. I have a message for you from Lilya, and I’m sure you know that she’ll kill me if I don’t deliver it to you.” 

His words echoed in the silence, and Peter waited, heart in his throat. Finally, a larger than normal splash sounded behind him and he spun around quickly, everything in him relaxing when he saw Wade barely peeking the top of his head and narrowed eyes out of the water. 

“Come on.” Peter stretched a hand out hopefully, “I missed you Wade.” 

Wade blew bubbles under water, sulking, but the words seemed to help because he finally surfaced, a frown on his face as he glanced at the paper in Peter’s hand and then met Peter’s eyes hesitantly. 

“Hey, sweetheart, sorry for the disappearing act. I was, uh, having one of those weeks, you know.” 

It was sweet of Wade to try and cover for the fact that Peter had hurt his feelings, but he didn’t want to just throw it under the rug like that. “Wade, I know I did something wrong back there, and I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry I didn’t truly appreciate your art.” Peter hesitated before giving him a small smile, “If it’s any consolation, my carving of you wasn’t that accurate either.” 

Wade brightened at that, a smirk on his face. “Yeah, it certainly didn’t get me at my best angles.” 

Peter chuckled, gesturing again with his hand until Wade took the hint and drew close enough for Peter to cup his cheek. “I’m really sorry, you know. That wasn’t cool of me and I’ll make it up to you somehow.” Peter murmured, tracing a scarred patch of scales on Wade’s cheek as he spoke. 

“Eh, it’s fine.” Wade shrugged, and even though it clearly wasn’t that day, Peter knew that Wade meant it now. He looked up at Peter with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Not everyone can have an artistic eye after all. But we’ll get you there one day.” 

Peter huffed, letting Wade tease him, the tension falling from his shoulders now that they were back on familiar ground. “I’m sure you’ll be an awesome teacher. But before we get to that, please read Lilya’s message. I’m dying to know what it says.” 

Of course, Peter probably could have taken a peek at it on his way here, but he had a weird feeling that if he did, she would somehow find out. And then it would be his life on the line. Peter shuddered. Lilya was a formidable woman. 

Peter obligingly passed the paper over to Wade’s wet hands when he made a grabby motion, wincing a bit at the fact that the water would ruin the paper pretty quickly. “So, what does it say?” 

Wade squinted at it, then looked up at Peter with an inscrutable expression. He threw the paper onto the cove floor and grabbed Peter by the back of his neck, his claws pinpricks of sensation, not quite pain, but close. His other hand cupped Peter’s cheek gently, tugging insistently until he followed, staring into Wade’s eyes as they slowly closed and sunk underwater. 

“Wha — " Peter sucked in a deep breath as his face was pulled under as well, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The only reason he didn’t gasp from the frigid water was because scarred lips suddenly pressed against his. Shocked, he clutched at Wade’s arms, letting them tug him fully into the ocean. 

There was nothing but cold, and a silence that should have scared him, but he was anchored by the familiar feeling of warm lips with a hint of sharp teeth against his. He remembered this. This drowning in heart-pounding fear, pulled out of him by the firm hold of clawed hands and the brush of scales against his legs. 

His hands tightened on the arms holding him, and he squeezed on them tightly. He opened his eyes, hazy with the red glow of Wade’s ear fins (he remembered this too, a flash of red in the dark, his salvation and his heart, though he didn’t know it at the time). After what felt like an eternity, they resurfaced, and his first breath of fresh air felt like a rebirth. 

His arms had moved up to wrap around Wade’s neck, and his back was arched in order to comfortably hold on, pressing him against Wade from the chest down. Wade was searching his eyes with a serious look, both his hands on Peter’s hips to hold him up. Peter could feel the occasional brush of Wade’s tail against him as he treaded water. 

“I’m going to need you to explain that,” Peter whispered, a different kind of fear overtaking him. The fear of rejection, of reading this wrong. 

Wade seemed to take Peter’s words as confirmation to whatever had been going on in his head, and he smiled softly before nuzzling close, brushing their cheeks together. “So, Lilya says we’re both dumbasses and we may have courted each other to the point of engagement without you being aware of it.” 

“We’re  _ engaged _ ?” Peter choked out. He would have sunk into the waters because of his flailing, if Wade hadn’t held tight, claws pinpricks at his hips. “Since when?!” 

Wade tilted his head, a moue of amusement on his lips. “Since you courted me, I courted you back, and then gave you the pearls.” 

“I wasn’t — " Peter spluttered, flushing red in mortification. “Those were thank you gifts!” 

“So you  _ don’t _ want to be with me?” Wade pressed, his pupils narrowed and ear fins pressed flat against his head. “‘Cause not for nothing babe, but I was kind of set on us being an item. A mated couple, two oysters in a shell, you get the idea.” 

“I do,” Peter responded faintly, “But that’s not the problem. How are — how can we be — we haven’t even dated!” 

Wade gave him a flat look. “If dating is courting, then we’ve been doing it since we met.” 

Peter wanted to argue back, but shut his mouth when he realized that Wade was right. It was kind of convoluted and archaic the way they’d gone about it, but there was no denying they’d both been slowly working towards this. 

“I started this, didn’t I?” Peter groaned, resting his forehead on Wade’s shoulder as he sighed and then broke into slightly hysterical laughter. “For once my stupidity came in handy, huh? Snagged me a hot merman.” 

“Siren,” Wade corrected, but he seemed too distracted pressing his mouth into Peter’s hair and breathing him in like a creeper to really be offended by Peter’s words. His hands were moving restlessly on Peter now, though one of them always held him close so he wouldn’t sink. “Now that we’re both on the same page...” Wade trailed off, grip tightening on Peter’s hips. “You sure you don’t have any regrets? You can still leave if you’d like. I mean, of course you can leave at any time, it would just hurt me real good if you did and I’d rather get an express warning so I can schedule in some wallowing and heartbreak binge-eating into my month.” 

“No regrets.” Peter pressed his lips to Wade’s collarbones, smile growing as it was finally sinking in that he could have this. That they could have each other. “Except maybe that we didn’t kiss more during our dates.” 

“Well,” Wade said, a false levity in his voice that was overwhelmed by his smirk. “We can make up for lost time.” 

Peter pulled back, eyes squinted with happiness as he took in the affection in Wade’s expression, something he’d always noticed but had attributed it to friendship. What a fool he was. “That we can.” Peter leaned in close, stifling a chuckle at the purr Wade let out as he closed his golden eyes, clearly intending to let Peter have his wicked way with him. 

“Let’s make sure we don’t waste another second,” Peter whispered before their lips met. They had started with a kiss after all, and now, they would end with a kiss and maybe a little more. 

A lot more, if Peter had anything to say about it. They had the rest of their lives ahead of them, and considering his mutations, it would be a long life indeed. 

He smiled into the kiss, giggling when Wade’s sharp teeth almost cut into his lip. Yeah, he could get used to this. 


	7. Epilogue

Wade had a dilemma. 

He stared hard at Peter’s legs and crotch, barely paying attention to the words Peter said as he tapped a sharp claw against his chin. 

“Wade!” 

A splash of water hit his face and he jolted, hissing at Peter instinctively. Peter shot him a dry look, arms crossed as he frowned down at Wade. He was perched on the rock floor where it met the sea, pants rolled up to his knees so he could dip his feet in the water. Wade’s hands would occasionally sneak over to touch that tantalizing skin, but Peter nudged him away every time, claiming that he was ticklish. 

“That was rude, baby boy. What if I was having some very important thoughts?” Wade pouted, giving Peter a wide-eyed look of innocence.

Peter scoffed, though he did look a touch contrite. “Important, sure. That’s why you were staring at my dick.” 

Wade smirked, never one to miss a chance to tease Peter. “Can’t blame me, sweet cheeks, we may be mates but we haven’t actually mated. Not that we have to rush,” Wade quickly reassured when he saw Peter tense, “It’s just a joke. Nevermind, forget I said anything. I’m always fucking up, aren’t I?”

Wade dragged a hand across his face with a sigh, one broken by the feel of Peter’s rough hands on his — calloused by his hard work both whittling and fishing — a now familiar and welcome touch. He looked up into warm eyes, letting Peter pull him close until Wade was bracketed by Peter’s legs. Peter played with his fingers, a habit he’d developed out of fascination for Wade’s sharp and ‘beautiful ombre claws,’ as he liked to say. 

“Of course I want to, Wade,” Peter said, easing the insecurities Wade hadn’t realized he’d harbored, that perhaps he was too disgusting for Peter to ever want him. “I just don’t know how to.” 

Wade tilted his head, a huff of laughter falling out of him, a weight off his shoulders as he realized they were both fools. Wade wrapped a hand carefully around the back of Peter’s neck, pulling him down so he could press their foreheads together. “You know what? I was having that same problem. I mean of course I’m not new to this, had my fair share of fish in the sea, but you kind of don’t have the parts I’m used to.” 

Peter licked his lips, nervous, “Oh, uh, you mean you’ve only mated with female Sirens?” 

Wade shook his head, grip tightening as he pecked Peter’s lips. “Nah, I’ve been with all sorts. It’s more like you’re my first human.” 

Peter paused and then broke into a smile. “You’re my first Siren.” 

“And your only,” Wade grinned, teeth sharp as he pulled Peter’s hand to his mouth and nipped at his fingers. He softened it into a press of lips as his brows furrowed. “I just don’t want to hurt you. I want this to be good for both of us.” 

“You’re already good to me, Wade,” Peter responded sweetly, a rarity for him as he usually played at being grumpy. It made Wade flush prettily, and he _harrumphed_ as he squirmed a little. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Wade complained, though he knew he fooled no one with the way Peter smirked at him. “Stop being affectionate when I’m trying to be sexy.” 

“That too,” Peter was on a roll now and seemed determined to make Wade combust. “I find you _very_ sexy.” Peter licked his lips, and this time it was from something completely different, the lust in his gaze unmistakable. “Tell me, what have you done with other Sirens? Maybe we can find some common ground.” 

Wade swallowed, throat dry as he thought back to his more pleasurable mating seasons. “Well, there’s the usual, most male mers have two penises though some have one. One is for breeding and the other is to uh, plug up the seed to ensure nothing escapes. It increases the chances of babies, if you’re into that. They’re shaped slightly differently because of their purposes, but both can produce cum. The one for fucking is kind of like a tentacle, I have more control over it at least. The one that’s more for plugging has soft flaps on the side so that it grips to the walls.” Wade waved a hand, emphasizing his point but also as a way to catch Peter’s attention. He was slightly concerned about the dazed look that had overtaken Peter’s face, his jaw dropped slightly open, cheeks flushed, and eyes distant.

“Two penises…” Peter squeaked, voice pitched before he let out a cough, a hand coming up to rub at his neck. He blinked several times before focusing back on Wade, his breathing just a little quicker now. “And how many do you have?” 

Wade smirked, “Why don’t you fuck around and find out? Quite _literally_ in this case...” 

“Wade please just tell me. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise,” Peter groaned, shoving at Wade’s shoulder in protest. 

“Well, if you must know,” Wade drew closer, just enough to breathe the words over Peter’s lips. “I have enough to make sure you’re fucked full several times over.” 

There was barely any warning before Peter was kissing him passionately and rather desperately, and while Wade tried to be careful with his much sharper teeth, Peter had no qualms about biting into his lips and making him bleed. He surged up, a growl rumbling deep in his chest, as he held onto Peter’s arms and tugged him close.

The kiss was interrupted when Peter yelped, slipping off the rocks and dunking himself almost entirely into the water, clothes still on. Wade slowed his fall, so he wasn’t completely soaked, but it still wasn’t pleasant if the grimace Peter had on his face was any indication of his discomfort. 

“Maybe we should take a rain check,” Wade suggested, chuckling when Peter pouted up at him. 

“But now I’m curious! I want to at least see it. Besides, we don’t need to go all the way right now. I think it’d be good to at least give it a trial run, so I know what to expect.” Peter reasoned, looking up from under his lashes and sending Wade a look he knew was irresistible. 

“You are impossible,” Wade growled, lifting Peter easily out of the water and setting him back on the rock floor. “Get out of your wet clothes, and maybe I can be convinced.” 

“You just want to see me naked,” Peter teased, even as he eagerly scrambled up to comply. 

Wade started to turn to give Peter some privacy as he undressed, but then quickly wheeled back around when he realized they were mates and he was allowed to look now. To say he was hit with astonishment was an understatement. Him, Wade Wilson the ugliest Siren, had a gorgeous and amazingly snarky mate like Peter. 

In the midst of his crisis over having snagged a honey bunny that was both sweet and sexy, Peter had gotten completely naked. 

“So, how do you want me?” Peter stood, hands on his hips, the slightest flush on his cheek and ears the only indication of how vulnerable he found being completely naked for the first time for Wade to look at. 

And look he did. Oh, Wade looked _respectfully_ and plenty disrespectfully as he ran his dilated eyes over every dripping wet inch of Peter. He lingered on his penis, noting with some interest that it was half-hard, and more girthy than his penises. That made sense though, as Wade had to tuck his into his pouch while humans had them hanging freely. 

He wrinkled his nose, even as he gestured for Peter to come closer. “Don’t you ever get scared that your privates might get chopped off or injured in a fight? You humans don’t even have a pouch to put it safely away!” 

Peter blinked at him before grimacing, “I mean, I didn’t before, but now I certainly do! Thanks for that, Wade. My vulnerable bits seem even more vulnerable now.” 

“It’s okay,” Wade cooed as he carefully ran a hand up Peter’s thigh and gently stroked his fingers up his length. “This is mine now. I’ll protect it for you.” 

Peter gasped at the touch, though he held still, body trembling from the strain of it. “I-I don’t think that’s how it works, but — for god’s sakes can you please stop touching me there, it’s very distracting.” 

Wade stopped from where he’d been steadily jerking Peter off, absolutely fascinated at how hard it had gotten. He took his hands off sheepishly, though there was a glow of pride in him that he couldn’t contain when he saw how undone he’d made Peter with a simple touch. “Sorry, you make such a pretty sight.” 

“Hold your horses,” Peter grumbled, “I have something in mind that I think you’d like, and would also help me familiarize myself with your anatomy.” 

Wade grumbled that he would never hold any of those cursed horse creatures if he could help it, but easily relented when he realized Peter was in what he called ’science mode’ now. Better to sate Peter’s curiosity than to have him pout or sulk at Wade later on. That always tugged at his heartstrings. 

“Fine fine, do what you’d like. I’m yours to command, baby boy.” Wade winked, flexing an arm just to see Peter smile. 

“Okay, so I need you to be on land. You don’t need to be fully,” Peter corrected when Wade seemed to be nervous about the idea. “Just enough for most of your waist and tail to be out of the water.” 

“And where will you be?” Wade asked, curious, even as he quickly followed Peter’s instructions. He trusted his mate, and though being on dry land wasn’t appealing, Peter would be right there with him. 

“I’ll be in the water,” Peter did just that once he had Wade positioned how he wanted. Wade was in the most comfortable position they could get him in. He was laying mostly on his side on the rock floor, with his large fin and the bottom half of his tail in the water. He was propped up on one hand as his other rested on his stomach. His slit was already leaking fluids in anticipation, natural lubrication that helped with mating. It was an oil-like substance, and it made his scales glisten in a way that water couldn’t replicate. 

Peter settled carefully into the water, a shudder running through him as he adjusted to the temperature. Once he was settled, he swam closer and wrapped an arm around Wade’s waist, using it to anchor himself. “Comfortable?” 

Wade hummed in agreement, a slight gasp falling from his lips as Peter used his fingers to catch a trail of clear slick that had leaked out of his slit and followed it back up to trace around where Wade’s pouch was slowly opening up. The more aroused he got and the more stimulated his slit, the faster his penises could come out. “Don’t be shy, you won’t hurt me.” Wade took Peter’s hand and showed him how to pleasure his slit. Strokes against the slowly-widening hole, and sometimes even dipping the tips of his fingertips into his slit if they could fit. It was tight, but he would loosen soon enough. 

“Oh,” Peter sighed, eyes hungry as he bit at his bottom lip, letting his fingers touch and stroke Wade. As he watched, the slit widened. “Do you want me to...?” 

“Yes,” Wade breathed out eagerly, throwing his head back as Peter quickly pressed his fingers in and brought out one, then both of his penises. One was longer and narrowed at the tip, while the other was blunt, shorter, and perhaps closer to what human genitals looked like, if it wasn’t for the near-invisible flaps of skin running up the side of it in a pattern. The longer one wasn’t exactly fully smooth either, and if inspected closely it looked slightly ribbed. “ _Fuck_ ,” Wade hissed, a clawed hand coming up to wrap around Peter’s as they touched his penises. “It’s been way too damn long.” 

“Wade, look at me.” 

Wade blinked harshly, trying to focus his pleasure-blurred gaze as he met Peter’s questioning eyes. 

“I want to put my mouth on you. Can I?” 

It took a few moments for the words to register but when they did Wade straightened, baffled. “Your mouth? You can do that? Isn’t it dangerous?” 

Now it was Peter’s turn to look confused. “I mean, there’s risk of getting nibbled a little if I don’t watch my teeth, but there really isn’t anything inherently dangerous about a blowjob, Wade.”

Ah, this was definitely a human-only thing then. “I don’t know what a blowjob is, but we don’t put our mouths on our vulnerable bits because of this.” Wade bared his teeth, reminding Peter of his serrated and sharp teeth. 

“Oh well, there’s no worry of that with me.” Peter smiled. “My teeth are too blunt for that.” He had correctly identified which was Wade’s breeding penis, and seemed intent on mouthing at that one. Just lips and tongue for now, as he looked up pleadingly at Wade, eyes dark with desire. Peter seemed fairly fascinated by his breeding penis, as it had a more tentacle-like shape than his other penis, and it was actually just as prehensile. Or at least, Wade was able to control its movements to an extent. His plugging penis was also interestingly non-human in appearance, as it was thicker and had more grip to it. 

It took a few more moments of wavering, but curiosity of a new sexual experience and his desire for Peter eventually won over. “Sure, have at it then. Just know that if you chomp something off I can’t grow it back, so be careful.” 

“Don’t worry,” Peter smirked as he licked at the base of Wade’s dick, lapping at the slick leaking out of his slit. One hand was carefully jerking off his thicker penis, playing with the slick that he was soaked in. “You’ll be too distracted to think about that.” 

“Wha — _oh_!” Before Wade could question what Peter meant, the warmest, wettest feeling surrounded the tip of his cock, and Wade felt more than heard the splash his tail made as his fin flipped out of the water, then sunk back in. His hand flew to Peter’s hair, not to push him down but to tangle in the long curls to have something to anchor him. When Peter had vaguely described the act, it didn’t seem particularly mind-blowing, but this was much more pleasurable than Wade had anticipated. 

Peter let out a pleased hum before sinking his dick deeper into his mouth, until he hit what seemed to be the back of his throat. Wade was trembling, sparks flying through his body as he struggled to take in a full breath. It was a wealth of sensations, and though fucking had always given him that wonderfully warm feeling, it was another thing entirely to be on dry land and have the full heat of Peter’s mouth on him. 

It was _tight_ , it was _wet_ , and if Peter didn’t stop with the humming he was going to come faster than they wanted. The dual sensation of Peter jerking off his cock while taking the other in his mouth was overwhelming. “Peter,” Wade gasped out, “A-ah, slow down baby. Let’s make this last.” 

Peter popped off of his cock with an obscene slurping sound, and Wade’s eyes almost rolled into the back of his head from the visual and the sound. Peter looked wrecked already, panting for breath and eyes bright with a smug sort of satisfaction. “See? Isn’t that nice?” 

“That was better than nice,” Wade laughed, pressing a shaking hand to Peter’s cheek and thumbing at the slick smeared on Peter’s lips. “You look good like this.” 

“Thank you,” Peter responded, a tad shy. He nuzzled into Wade’s hand before dropping a kiss and cheeky lick to the head of Wade’s thicker penis. “I want to taste this one too.” 

“Oh that’s probably not a good idea.” Wade gentled the rejection by stroking Peter’s hair. “That one is meant to grip and stay in place. Trying to move up and down on it wouldn’t be pleasant. Besides,” Wade smirked, guiding the narrow tip of his tentacle-like penis back to Peter’s mouth, “There’s some things I haven’t shown you about this one.” 

“Oh?” Peter made an intrigued sound before he closed his eyes and gently licked a line up his cock. “Show me.” 

Those were the last words he said before he determinedly sunk down on Wade’s cock, and just like before, the Siren could barely think over the heat of Peter’s talented mouth. Still, he’d promised a show, and it wouldn’t do to disappoint his mate. 

Carefully, so he wouldn’t startle him, he tapped a finger at Peter’s throat to give him a slight warning. Peter hummed his assent and instead of fucking his throat like Peter seemed to be expecting, Wade concentrated and _moved_ his penis the slightest bit, just enough to press against the inside of Peter’s throat more insistently. 

Peter pulled off, startled, and a hand flew to his throat as he stared up at Wade, then his cock, with wide eyes. “What was that?” 

In answer, Wade smiled a little self-consciously before making his penis do a little wave, bending slightly at the tip before straightening. “Uh, surprise?” 

Peter’s face did something weird before it settled on fascination. “We’re going to have a lot of fun with that when you finally get in me.”

“If you want,” Wade replied, relieved that Peter didn’t seem unsettled by his non-human genitals. “I’d be more than happy to show you how that feels when it’s tapping against your prostate.” 

Peter flushed and groaned, one hand sinking into the water and moving in an unmistakable rhythm. He bit out a curse before he forced his hands back out to grip onto Wade’s hips in an almost bruising grip, his control wavering under the strength of his want. “ _Fuck_ , I’ll hold you to that. But I want you to come in my mouth first.” 

“With pleasure,” Wade cooed, a dirty grin on his face as he slowly fed his cock back into Peter’s mouth, spreading his plush lips. “Growing boys need nourishment, and we’re gonna make sure you drink my come, hm?” 

Peter’s embarrassed squeak felt amazing around his cock, and this time he gripped Peter’s unruly hair to guide him up and down. Peter seemed to like that, and his moans fueled Wade’s increasingly erratic movements. He barely had the presence of mind to notice that while Peter was jerking off his thicker cock, his other hand seemed to be doing the same underwater. Not for the first time, he lamented the fact that he couldn’t see his pretty boy bring himself to pleasure. 

Peter swallowed around him over and over, pulling him from his thoughts as he seemed to be using everything he knew to throw Wade over the edge. His hands shook as he tried to prevent his claws from sinking into Peter’s scalp, his grip careful on his hair. 

Wade gasped and hunched over with a haunting screech, echoing in the cove as he stammered out a number of syllables he hoped were English to try and warn Peter. Luckily he seemed to get the message, but instead of pulling off his cock as Wade came, he pressed closer until his lips met Wade’s slit, the entirety of Wade’s cock sunk deep into Peter’s wet mouth. That did it for him, and he came hard, every pump of scalding hot cum swallowed eagerly by Peter. 

He had just enough sense of mind to pull Peter’s mouth off of him, the reddened lips, half-lidded eyes, and flushed cheeks painting a sinful picture. Peter aimed Wade’s other cock towards his face and closed his eyes with an expression of bliss as spurts of cum painted him in streaks. 

“Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” Peter panted, resting his face against Wade’s stomach, cheek sliding against Wade’s slick as he jerked himself off in harsh movements. “You can come in my mouth _and_ on my face. There’s so much of it — I can’t — ”

“Come here,” Wade growled, moving just quickly enough that he was able to bodily haul Peter out of the water until they were chest to chest. He reached a hand down and helped Peter finish himself off, as he had clearly been on the edge for a while now. “Mark me up.” 

“I — ” Peter let out a sob, body trembling as he looked down to where they both fisted his cock, flushed an angry red as spurts of cum landed on Wade’s limp cocks. It ran down slowly, Peter’s cum much thicker in consistency than Wade’s, and they both let out a moan as his cum reached Wade’s slit and seeped in. 

“Should we clean that?” Peter barely had the energy to ask, shakily running fingers over Wade’s cocks and his slit. 

“No,” Wade sighed, lying back on the rock floor as tingles of pleasure ran down his spine. “Leave it, I want to keep you with me.” 

Wade carefully put away both his cocks, making sure to smear Peter’s cum on them and tucking them safely away in his pouch. The slit was still visible, a puffy pink line that wouldn’t settle for a while, not with how hard Wade had come and how aroused he still was. Physically, it would take him a few hours before he could go again, but it didn’t mean he didn’t want to. The mind was willing but the body was tired. 

Peter snuggled close to Wade, both of them too overheated from their orgasms to really mind the chill of the wind on their damp skin. 

“That was…” Peter made a little squealing sound — muffled by his mouth pressed into Wade’s shoulders — that was as adorable as it was worrying. 

Wade tugged until Peter’s eyes met his, a hesitant smile on his face as he tried to read Peter’s expression. “That was mind-blowing? Very sexy?” 

Peter huffed, a grin on his face, “All of that and more. Mostly I was going to say that was everything I ever wanted.” Peter paused before shuffling higher and tucking his face into Wade’s neck, pressing a quick kiss to his hidden gills. “And that we should do that again later.” 

“That and more, yeah?” Wade nudged playfully, his tail flipping idly where it was mostly in the water. 

“That and more,” Peter confirmed, eyes sparkling with joy and a sated smile on his lips, “Once we take a nap.” 

Wade hid his likely very besotted face in Peter’s hair, trying to ignore the tears in his eyes as his heart burst with the love he felt for this gorgeous, kind man. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Good, then we are on the same page.” Peter nodded firmly before patting Wade’s chest admiringly. “These make very good pillows.” 

Wade huffed, eyes slowly closing and a smile on his face as he wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist. “Yeah baby, and they’re all yours.” 

“Mm,” Peter mumbled, a quiet purr of satisfaction, “All mine.” 

If Peter heard Wade’s heart skip a beat from his declaration, he was kind enough not to bring attention to it. Instead, he laced their fingers together, and they fell asleep both sated and happy. A sense of belonging falling over them like the warmest of blankets.

xxxxxx

“Aunt May,” Peter greeted, phone pressed to his ear as he stood at the beach, waving at Wade as the Siren made flips out of the water, showing off. “How have you been?” 

“Oh,” Aunt May breathed out, a slight admonishment in her voice. “We should be asking you that! Honestly, it can’t hurt to let us know about the nice boy you’ve met, yet we had to hear from MJ when she visited. Such a sweet girl, that one.” 

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, though he should have known MJ would let his family know. They all worried about him and were fiercely protective, and it seemed their mutual goal of keeping Peter happy meant they got along swimmingly. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you guys, it just happened so fast…” Peter trailed off, thinking back on his conversation with MJ. At the time, he’d thought it was just a one-sided crush and hadn’t wanted to discuss it. He didn’t need any more pity from his loved ones. 

It was a different story now, and Peter fidgeted with the pearl shell necklace he wore, another gift from Wade. Even after their courtship was considered finalized and they’d consummated it quite thoroughly and with great pleasure, the Siren still insisted on showering Peter with gifts. 

He was more decorated now than he’d ever been, and having pearls weaved into his hair was now a common occurrence. Of course, after one too many incidents where his pearls fell out of his hair from the vigorous sex they had, they’d learned pretty early on that if they planned to have sex, Peter should leave his pearls at home. That, coupled with the necklace and the bruises on his body from Wade’s passionate love-making, made him feel quite possessed and treasured. 

“Well, Uncle Ben finished his last checkup with the doctors. His physical therapist says he doesn’t need any more treatment as he’s well on his way to recovering fully.” May hesitated, voice a little softer. “If you’d like, we’d love to come visit you Peter. It’s been months and well, we miss you. We can meet your new boyfriend, make a nice trip out of it.” 

Aunt May’s words piled on top of each other, and Peter felt guilt at how he’d neglected his family because of his own issues. Aunt May and Uncle Ben especially probably had an inkling as to what was wrong with Peter, but confessing that he wasn’t quite human anymore on top of introducing his Siren fiancé was a bit overwhelming. 

As if sensing his worry, Wade swam closer, and Peter waded in knees deep until he could reach out and take Wade’s hand for moral support. “I don’t know Aunt May,” Peter finally responded, throat thick with emotions, “Does Uncle Ben even want to see me?” 

Aunt May let out an indignant sound he’d never heard her make, and he would have laughed if he wasn’t nauseous with nerves. “Of course! Peter, we love you. No matter what you think about yourself or what happened, it doesn’t change that we’ll always want the best for you.” Her voice was hoarse, as if she was holding back tears. “It wasn’t easy letting you go alone to a far off town, you know! We worry.”

There was a rustling sound then and some murmured words as Aunt May responded back with an affirmative and suddenly Uncle Ben’s voice was in his ear. “Peter?” 

“Uncle Ben,” Peter's voice cracked, a hand flying to his mouth as he choked back tears. This was the first time he’d heard his voice since the incident, and he didn’t realize how much he’d missed him till his heart jumped and every part of him stood at attention. “I-I’m sorry, there’s so much I need to apologize for — " 

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for,” Uncle Ben interrupted, firm but kind. His voice softened. “I know things haven’t been the easiest, and the whole situation with your work…” he trailed off before letting out a weary sigh, “It wasn’t a good place for you, and I’m happy you are safe now, and that you’ve found someone.” 

“I have,” Peter confirmed, smile wan even as he felt his heart lighten. Wade whined and wiggled his fingers, clearly put out that Peter had let go, though he could tell it was just a front for the concern he felt for Peter. He chuckled before he took Wade’s hand again, reassuring him as much as he was placating him. “I think you would like him.” 

Uncle Ben let out a hum, and then in a quiet voice, “Does he know?” 

Peter sucked in a breath, hand clenched so tight in Wade’s that his claws dug into Peter’s palm. “Do you?” 

“I know enough,” Uncle Ben replied sagely, “You know I love you, Peter. This doesn’t change anything. But does your boy know?” 

Peter could read the real question there, the worry that the person Peter had placed his heart with would not be able to handle the truth. That they would hurt him, unable to protect the most fragile parts of him. Peter’s expression softened, staring into Wade’s inhuman narrowed eyes and his red glowing ear fins. Wade grinned back reassuringly, teeth sharp. 

“He knows, and it’s not a problem. You’ll see when you meet him.” 

“And you’re happy?” Uncle Ben prodded, concern clear in his voice. “He’s treating you right?” 

“He is,” Peter sighed, content. “I’m happy, more than I ever thought I could be.” 

There was a pause, before words heavy with something like sadness and painful memories echoed between them. “You’re not coming back to New York.” 

It wasn’t a question, but Peter answered regardless, knowing Uncle Ben needed the confirmation. “No.” Peter nodded at the ocean, gesturing for Wade to go enjoy himself. Wade surged up just long enough to give him a peck on the cheek and a quick nuzzle before he flipped back and sunk back into the waters. The sun was setting slowly, and Peter watched, eyes crinkled with happiness as Wade reappeared far from shore, shooting himself into the air and doing a flip with a happy screech before diving back into the deep waters. “This is my home now.” Home is where the heart is, and Wade had taken Peter’s the moment he’d saved him from the storm and from himself. 

“I’m happy for you.” Uncle Ben sounded sincere, and something that had been holding onto Peter’s heart, clenched tight and dark, finally loosened. 

“I am too,” Peter replied softly, and this time, he meant it. It had been a long and winding road for him to reach this point, but with the help of a quirky coastal town and a monster that reflected the parts of himself he’d been too scared to face, he’d learned acceptance. Maybe they were two peas in a pod, two monsters occupying the same space, but maybe they were just two people who understood each other when no one else could. 

Whatever it was, Peter wouldn’t trade it for the world. Wade flipped out of the water again, and when he landed he popped his head out of the waters quickly. He cupped both hands to his mouth and hollered, “Peter, come join me!” 

Peter laughed, unrestrained and filled with a peace he hadn’t anticipated finding when he’d first ran away from his fears. “Coming!” He called back out before speaking quickly into the phone. “I’ll talk to you later, Uncle Ben.” 

There was a smile in his voice as he replied, “We will.” A pause, then, “I’m proud of you, Peter.” 

Peter swallowed back the emotions that brought up, and whispered, “I love you too.” 

They hung up after that, and Peter waded deeper into the waters until Wade could put his hands on his hips. Wade pouted at him, “Telling other people sweet nothings and leaving none for me huh? Such a cruel boy you are.” 

“What do you want me to say?” Peter teased, eyes sparkling as he let Wade pull him in until he could rest his hands on his scarred chest. 

Wade pretended to think about it, before he pressed a kiss to Peter’s lips. “Well, I’m sure you have an idea of what I want. Use those smarty pants brains, baby boy.” 

“Hm,” Peter hummed before he leaned in and pressed his lips to Wade’s ear. 

In the comforting cover of the growing night and with the stars slowly peeking out behind dark clouds, Peter whispered words to Wade that was meant only for them, and no one else. 

Wade’s answering grin was as bright as the stars, and they laughed as they shared a final kiss. 

Distantly, the waters lapped gently in the Lonely Cove, a space that now served as a hideaway not for one monster, but two. And it was lonely no longer.

_fin_


	8. Extra: Concept Art

Initial concept art of Wade's ears and his black to red tipped ombre claws. As seen here, the boxed ear 2 was chosen as the final look:

Initial design/koi look for Wade. It includes details such as the smattering of scales he has on his left cheekbones, right near his eyes: 

The peen concepts for Wade's famous double dicks. In theory, the longer tentatacle-like one is that way so that it can deposit seed deeper in their partners. It is also slightly ribbed (for your pleasure). The thicker stumpier one is then perfect for 'plugging' up the seed (it also has gripping flaps that are soft and don't hurt but rather just provide just enough friction to encourage the peen staying inside their partner). Everything is also self lubricated!:

This is initial pose concepts for the opening scene where Wade saves Peter. It also has a nice full body view of Peter's preferred outfit when he is fishing!:

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the fic and the incredible art ahgee created for this story! To say that I am blown away by their enthusiasm is an understatement. I'm still sweating from running around figuring out where all the art pieces go. If anyone is curious, they did 15 in total, including the concept art and every single piece is breathtakingly beautiful. Please give them LOTS of love for their efforts because I can never thank them enough (I may have cried real tears of joy over this several times). 
> 
> You can find [our official masterpost for the fic and art here](https://spideypoolbigbang.tumblr.com/post/642724277845704704/title-lost-in-a-shadow-of-you). There are three total art masterposts both due to tumblr image limitations and also because the nsfw art pieces needed to be on twitter to avoid censorship. Here is a direct link to [art masterpost 1](https://ah-geee.tumblr.com/post/642723852092375040/%C2%BD-the-art-masterpost-for-the-spideypoolbigbang) and another link to [art masterpost 2](https://ah-geee.tumblr.com/post/642723893508997120/22-the-art-masterpost-for-the).The NSFW art pieces can be [found here!](https://twitter.com/jiing_sin/status/1359433464597028868?s=20). PLEASE go reblog and retweet!!! Their art pieces are stunning and they're also just a great person. I love you lots ahgee, thank you for being such a kind and giving partner! 
> 
> In terms of the story, I imagine that Peter eventually finds out more about Siren culture and realizes Wade doesn't wear pretty things because he's self-conscious. He then proceeds to shower Wade in the softest silks he can find and the prettiest gems. Yes, that's what Peter uses his money on. And to those who had an inkling already, yes, the break in that allowed Wade to escape was the one that Peter did as a reporter and which ultimately lead to those human/Siren experimentation scientists to hunt him down and try to shoot him. 
> 
> In a way, before they ever officially met, Peter had saved Wade from a life of torture, and in the end when they did meet, Wade saved him both literally and figuratively. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked it! They were super dumb in this the misunderstandings were insane. Seriously, 34k and they only figured things out in the last two chapters x'D Just know they share a brain cell but neither of them have it at any given time. If you liked this please do leave a comment :) This was a work of labor and it's been in the making for a good while now. I had a lot of fun with it! 
> 
> May this fic and the beautiful art give you some serotonin in these much needed times. Thanks for reading and until next time! <3


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